


Re-educating Jason

by Cuthwyn



Series: The Secret [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Bruce is improvising like a pro, Child Sexual Exploitation, Dick is just confused, Jason is a literal little snowflake, M/M, No graphic depiction of rape/noncon, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Trust Issues, Young Jason Todd, bonding through literature, trust issues galore, underage spoken about and one incident but not followed through
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-07 04:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 52,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12833505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuthwyn/pseuds/Cuthwyn
Summary: One Friday evening, Jason Todd’s life changed forever.Adopted by Bruce Wayne it was sold to him as a happy ending.In Jason’s world happy endings exist only in the stories he reads.The past doesn’t just go away because someone has declared a happy ending, it’s still there waiting for the next chapter.Becoming Bruce Wayne’s son, becoming Robin, Jason finds away of creating his own happy ending.Learning that sometimes, adults can be trusted.Bruce learns that some secrets should never be kept but some promises are still made.





	1. The Happy Ending

**Author's Note:**

> I lied!  
> I forgot I’d half written this story first for the next story to make sense.
> 
> It’s basically centred around how the secret was made and the immediate aftermath.
> 
> Thank you for reading :)

It had been fairly sunny today. The odd ray of dying light shone through the clouds that threatened rain. To the millions of Gothamites this had been just another day at the rodeo. But today? Today had been the day that Jason Todd's life really did change forever.  
In his short life, Jason was used to being shoved from pillar to post. For years he had gone from one dire situation to another with no hope of reprieve. If he was honest, his outlook had been dire since his damn conception. He’d been born screaming, addicted to the heroin his mother took and quite frankly, life had trundled along in a similar theme ever since. Today was different though. He had a new home he was being taken to. Not some dump they shoved useless kids into but a home, home. It was like something out of a novel. That wasn't what was exciting about today though.  
Jason unwound the window as his social worker drove out of the city and allowed himself to smile when the brisk wind caught his face, he could taste the salt of the sea on his tongue and all around him was grass and trees, and just so much green. He had never, ever been this far out of the city before and his heart leapt in joy to see the world he'd found in his storybooks.

'Jason! What are you doing? Get inside before a tree takes your head off!'  
‘Isn't it exquisite?'  
Frowning, Anita glanced at the volatile boy surprised at his use of the word, despite knowing his wide and colourful vocabulary.  
'What is?' She asked, peering out at the overgrown hedgerows and the fly tipped mattress in the near by field. Sure they were in Bristol, but the outskirts of Gotham was still a hotspot for disposing of the cities unwanted things. With that thought her gaze involuntarily slid back to Jason.  
Jason who was none the wiser and just grinned back at her.  
'Out here? It's like Aslan could come any second.'  
'As who?'  
'Aslan? The lion from ‘The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe’?' Jason explained, looking at the woman as if she had dribbled down her rather expensive looking coat. Anita ignored the disrespect, it’s all this kid ever seemed to show and instead looked back out at the road with a hum. In her opinion, this entire fiasco was a very bad idea. During the meeting she had argued that Jason would be better placed in a juvenile psychiatric unit, maybe not Arkham, but maybe the quaint little clinic in Bludhaven? There was something about the boy that wasn’t quite right and after such an extended period on the streets doing Christ knows what, his family history before even thinking about the criminal activity he’d been manipulated into, it really wasn’t that hard to believe that Jason needed therapy, and possibly medication. Research was cropping up every day linking mental illness to trauma and this kid had it in spades. Looking back at Jason, who was grinning and leaning out of the car window again, she wondered if maybe the medication he needed was antipsychotics?

‘Jason, if you do not get your head back inside this car, it will not be safe for me to drive and we shall have to pull over. If we have to stop because of your behaviour, we will not reach Wayne Manor in time. That means we shall have to turn around and start this process all over again. Do you want to go back to Gotham, Jason?’ Anita ground out through gritted teeth, struggling to keep her voice low and authoritative instead of yelling. Jason’s entire body seemed to freeze up, before he was sat back in his seat and wound the window back up. The grin had vanished and instead a very familiar, stony expression graced his face as he stared out of the windscreen blankly.  
‘Sorry Anita.’  
Anita nodded and tried to swallow down the pang of regret when that bright smile dissolved back into surly teenager. This wasn’t right.  
She’d always had her reservations about Mr Wayne’s interest in Richard Grayson and now, he had his eye on Jason just as inexplicably. The interest of the lone, billionaire had in young boys to her was deeply concerning and in any ordinary case, adoption would not have been granted so easily no matter how much money Mr Wayne flashed around.  
However, this was no ordinary case. Jason Todd was a walking example of how flawed the social system was. This boy had been failed multiple times, to the point where he had managed to roam Gotham’s streets undetected until Batman had spotted him. Batman, now there was the crux of the issue. Better to parcel Jason off as quickly as possible than let the media catch wind that the Batman had highlighted their horrific failings to safeguard a very vulnerable child. It was embarrassing and Anita herself was ashamed and felt more and more disgusted with herself the longer she had Jason on her caseload.

The car trundled along and finally, the small collection of mansions dotted the roadside leading up to Wayne Manor, that was visible just in the distance. Anita forced a smile and glanced over at her charge, expecting Jason’s grin to be back in place as he stared at the beautiful buildings, probably imagining them to be palaces in the far away lands in his head. The boy was as silent as ever though, the way he stared out at Wayne Manor in the distance almost fearful, yet resigned.  
‘That’s it? Up there?’ Jason asked, fingernails digging into the leather of the car seat and Anita nodded slowly.  
‘Erm, yes, yes that’s right. Looks pretty cool huh? Like a fairy castle?’ Anita tried to add extra happy to her voice, to tap into Jason’s fantasy world. They would be arriving in under ten minutes and a bright, excited child was far more appeasing to newly adoptive parents than a surly one that looked terrified. Her job was on the line if Mr Wayne changed his mind about the arrangement.  
‘Then at last his gaze was held: wall upon wall, battlement upon battlement, black tower of adamant, he saw it: Barad-dûr, Fortress of Sauron. All hope left him.’ Jason replied, his voice oddly monotone and far away.

The Manor House drew closer and they paused outside the large iron gates in a very heavy silence. Anita honestly didn’t know how to respond to this kid sometimes. There was abused and traumatised children and then there was Jason, in a whole new category of his very own.  
‘Why does Mr Wayne want me? He already has a kid and have you seen Dick Grayson? There’s only one reason a rich guy wants a kid like me.’ Jason mumbled as the gates creaked open, his knuckles now white with how tightly he was clutching the car seat. Anita had a feeling that she knew what Jason was hinting at, the nature of the thoughts currently rolling around in that head of his, yet despite years of experience, she was unable to find the words to ease his worries. For in truth, she held the same concerns but was powerless to do anything about it. The quicker Jason was dropped off and out of her hair the better.  
‘Now, that’s enough of that. I hear Mr Wayne has a swimming pool won’t that be fun?’  
‘I can’t swim.’  
‘Well, you’ll just have to learn then won’t you? Come along and don’t forget your belongings.’ Anita snapped back, wincing inwardly at her lack of control as she parked up at the Manor steps and got out of the car. Jason followed suit, his rucksack slung over one shoulder.  
‘Can’t you see the shadows?’ Jason spoke up as Anita knocked on the door, eyes focused on a gargoyle grimacing down at him like a demon.  
‘Enough Jason. This is your last chance, do you want to end up in juvie? Just try and act normal, no smoking and for Pete’s sake, smile!’  
Turning, she saw Jason plaster on the fakest smile known to man and sighed.  
God help them all!

Finally the door opened and a very serious looking man in a suit looked from the social worker to the boy, stood as straight as a rod directly behind her.  
‘Good Evening, Ms Farrow I presume?’  
Smiling, Anita nodded and tugged Jason forwards to prevent him from making a run for it.  
‘My apologies for running late, there was a hold up at City Hall. Is Mr Wayne home?’  
‘Indeed.’ Inclining his head he opened the door wider to permit the guests entry. Anita tugged a reluctant Jason along and instructed him to stand still and not touch anything. This seemed to ruffle the posh, British man’s feathers, and he stepped closer to the boy and offered his hand.  
‘Ah, you must be the esteemed Master Jason I have heard so much about. How are you sir?’  
‘Who are you?’ Jason replied, brow furrowing slightly as his eyes bounced from artwork to wall, from carpet to door. ‘This house has secrets.’  
A trill of laughter left Anita’s lips and she leant down to pinch Jason’s cheeks, who just swatted her away.  
‘Such a vivid imagination for such a young man.’  
Turning around, she yet again rested a hand on Jason’s shoulder, as if he were a car she was showing off.  
‘Please excuse his forwardness, Jason has a little trouble with social skills. Although I assure you, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a good, loving home.’  
‘Is that so Ms Farrow? Well, Mr Wayne can provide the young man with both.’ 

Kneeling down, the man smiled warmly at the bemused boy and offered his hand again.  
‘May I introduce myself sir? My name is Alfred Pennyworth, and I have served this household for two generations.’  
Jason frowned and cocked his head at Alfred’s hand before nodding slowly.  
‘Huh, m’name’s Jason. Are you a servant then? I never met one b’fore.’  
The sound of Anita face palming was more than a little audible, but Alfred ignored her in favour of chuckling at the boy and nodding.  
‘I am a butler, sir.’  
‘Oh. Okay.’ Jason mumbled, eyes glued to the floor, he just stood and practised being normal. He had been practising ever since Mr Wayne had first rocked up at City Hall and he thought he’d got a pretty good handle on it now. Although this was all meant to be swell, he couldn’t help but wish Batman had just taken him to his lair, Batcave? Batman was awesome but this? This was just humiliating and he couldn’t help but feel like he was up for auction, a play thing for the adults. Nothing new there.  
Watching Jason stare at the wooden floor as if he’d never seen one before, Anita sighed and massaged her temples before turning to smile at Alfred. Digging around in her bag, she brought out a form and thrust it towards Alfred with a pen.  
‘Just give him a few minutes to reboot and all will be fine. Could you please sign to confirm that Jason has arrived with you safely?’

Alfred took the form and looked from it, to Jason with a raised eyebrow.  
‘I’m afraid I must summon Mr Wayne in regards to this.’  
Eyes widening, Anita shook her head and frantically motioned towards the form with another trill of laughter. It was Friday evening, all she had to do was get this form signed and then Jason was out of her hair until at least 9 am Monday morning.  
‘Oh no, no need. Any signature will do. It’s just to confirm-‘  
‘My apologies Ms Farrow, it is just when Mr Wayne informed me that I was to welcome a child into our household, I did not expect a delivery of an appliance.’  
There was a snort and Alfred turned to see the otherwise quiet boy trying very hard not to laugh. The social worker however, seemed far from impressed and opened her mouth to argue the her case again.  
‘If this is not the delivery of an appliance then the signatory must be the boy’s guardian, which I Madam am not. If you would care to follow me? Mr Wayne is currently in his study. Master Jason? The kitchen is through the door on the right, just follow the hallway. You shall find a light evening meal waiting for you.’  
Jason looked up and watched Alfred disappear up the grand staircase with Anita and sucked on his bottom lip.  
His stomach grumbled.  
How was he meant to go to the kitchen if Anita told him to stand here and not touch anything?


	2. The curious case of the bath and ice cream

Was this the sitting room?  
Swallowing against his dry throat, Jason shifted uncomfortably on the spot. He tried to keep his eyes lowered, but the young boy couldn't help but look around his apparent new 'home' in bewilderment. Most people probably would have looked around at the polished floor, enormous chandelier and grand staircase in wonder, but Jason? Jason was terrified. He wanted to run away but his feet were glued to the floor. There was the odd chair lining the walls at various intervals. Jason wondered if he was meant to sit down and wait like he did at City Hall? One look at the carved polished wood and soft leather cushions quickly shot that idea down to hell. Running a shaking hand over his grubby, torn jeans, Jason figured that a cheap plastic chair at City Hall was one thing, he really shouldn’t be going anywhere near the expensive looking furniture with his filthy body.  
Shifting his muddy boots about on the clean floor, he wondered if he should just go and stand outside?  
Man, he had complained about having to sit around at City Hall but in hindsight? At least he didn't feel inferior sat on the plastic, easily disinfected, chair.

'Oh! Master Jason? I was expecting to see you in the kitchen, are you lost sir?’  
Jumping nearly out of his skin, Jason span on his heel and stared at the stoic, British man.  
How did he get there? Wait, was HE Batman? Batman had something to do with this whole shindig, he wasn't stupid.  
'Is your name Jason, sir?'  
'Y-yes, sir. Sorry, sir.' Jason stumbled over his apology, fighting the urge to step back as the man stepped forwards.  
'There is no need for such formalities sir. Please, do call me Alfred.'  
'Yes sir, sorry, Alfred. Um, where’s Anita?’ Jason asked, looking past Alfred at the very empty space behind him. Alfred’s smile faltered and if Jason didn’t know better he looked angry.  
‘I am afraid Ms Farrow has already left. Did she not wish you well before leaving Master Jason?’  
Swallowing thickly, Jason turned slightly to look at the front door and felt suddenly nauseous. Anita must have walked straight past him without his notice, not even stopping to say goodbye. He didn’t quite get why that bothered him, but now he was alone, in a big house with an older man who wanted him. It would be hard to run from here without being caught, he’d overheard them all saying that at City Hall.  
‘I-I must have been daydreaming and not heard her. Silly me, head in the clouds.’ He mumbled, hand tightening around the rough material of the handle of his rucksack. He didn’t dare look up, he didn’t want to see the look of sympathy on Alfred’s face. Adults did that a lot when it came to him. The look you’d give an abandoned puppy in a cardboard box, but just like the puppy, it was merely a flippant gesture.  
‘Hmm, is that so Master Jason? Never you mind, Master Bruce has already developed a ‘colourful’ opinion of Ms Farrow. Come, if there’s one thing that I know cheers up little boys, it’s the promise of food.’

Jason stood and blinked after Alfred in bemusement, was he meant to follow? Should he take his boots off first? Was that what rich folks did? He had literally no idea what the rules were.  
Chuckling at the boy’s nervousness, Alfred turned and raised an eyebrow.  
‘Footwear may be left by the door Master Jason. Now come along, unless of course you prefer lurking in the entrance hall? I must admit sir, I fear you would make quite a disappointing coat stand.'  
This was the fucking entrance hall!  
Wide eyes flitting around his surroundings again, Jason swallowed for the hundredth time and as he removed his boots and trotted after Alfred. He’d been standing in an entrance hall, what the hell did the kitchen look like?  
Plodding along, Jason frowned at the wet foot prints he was leaving in his wake, his gaze travelled to his feet. They were not a pretty sight. His socks were odd, well worn, with more holes than material, some of the fabric actually stuck to his feet and hurt when he tried to pry it off, and that was all before the unholy smell even he knew was disgusting. His cheeks grew hot and suddenly Anita’s threat to take him back to the inner city didn’t seem too bad.

‘Here we are Master Jason. Please take a seat.’  
Jason couldn’t breathe. He had never fallen in love before, and he wasn’t sure if falling in love with a kitchen was even a sexuality, but if it was? Sign him up because this beauty was a freaking goddess in chrome and slate.  
‘I see we approve of the kitchen. Does the young sir enjoy cooking?’  
Blinking, Jason forced himself to take a deep, much needed breath and nodded meekly. He loved to cook. He could see it quite vividly, his mamá smiling and singing while they stirred a mixing bowl of surprise in their little kitchenette. Sometimes, they would pretend they were making magic spells and that was the memories he liked best.  
Alfred smiled and took it upon himself to guide the poor, disillusioned boy into a chair at the kitchen table.  
‘Maybe, when the young master is rested, you might care to help me prepare dinner tomorrow? I must say I am quite elated to have a helping hand.’  
‘Okay.’  
Jason’s excitement fizzled out and he frowned down at the crisp white table cloth that was most definitely linen. Was that why he had been brought here? To be a kitchen boy like the ones in classic novels? Oh, he did hope he got a flat cap to wear, and breeches!

‘Splendid! Now, I must insist you eat something sir, you have had a taxing day.’ Alfred declared, placing down a plate with not one, but two sandwiches and an apple, along with a glass of orange juice. ‘My apologies sir, but without prior knowledge to the exact time of your arrival, I was unable to prepare a more substantial meal.’  
Jason didn’t know what the old man was babbling on about? He’d never been given this much to eat before in his life, and it took every ounce of his concentration to not drool like a ravenous beast and descend upon it as if he were one.  
‘No, this is good. Thanks!’ He said, eyes the size of saucers as he picked up a sandwich with the care that you’d give the Holy Grail. Alfred appraised the skinny, little thing before him and hummed thoughtfully. His gaze dropped to the despicable state of the boy’s feet and his lips thinned.  
‘That, I can believe sir. Whilst you are eating may I request that I attend to ones feet? Those, what I assume are socks, must come off.’  
Alfred didn’t actually wait for Jason’s consent before making off to fill a bowl with warm water and Epsom Salts. ‘Although we may require a crowbar to relieve your feet of them.’ He muttered under his breath with a clear tone of disgust.

The idea to protest did crop up, but that would involve stopping eating and if Jason said anything, Alfred might take the food away. So he probably made quite a sight, sat in a posh kitchen, munching on sandwiches with his feet in a bowl.  
The bowl.  
Jason had no idea what was in it but as soon as his feet were submerged, socks and all, he had never felt relief like it! He didn’t even know that his feet hurt and itched until the feeling died down.  
Oddly, Alfred had a very solemn face when he took scissors to his socks to pry them free from his skin, almost as if the sight physically pained him. Jason didn’t see what the problem was? Hardly anyone that he knew removed their shoes unless it was necessary. That’s how they got stolen and you awoke the next morning to rats nibbling at your toes, and that’s before frostbite.  
Wrapping up half a sandwich, he shoved it in his rucksack for later and braved a look down to see what it was exactly Alfred was doing to his feet.  
It was hard to see, the water was a murky brown colour, but the man seemed unfazed by it.  
‘Nearly done sir. Ah, I see you have finished? Would you care for some ice cream?’  
Jason couldn’t believe his ears. Ice cream? For him? Alfred could chop his feet off if it meant that he got ice cream. Nodding, he sat on the chair and watched the strange man change the water in the bowl and dollop large spoonfuls of ice cream into another. The air brushing against his feet as he swung them was so freeing he was adamant to never, ever wear shoes again. He was a rich kid now right? He could probably get away with doing that, well, maybe not forever but maybe Alfred wouldn’t make him put his boots back on until morning.

 

The bowl filled to the brim with a rainbow of ice cream of all different flavours was placed in front of him and Jason was so amazed by it he didn’t even notice his feet going back into a fresh bowl of water. A scraping sensation on the bottom of his feet had Jason glancing back down again, ice cream not only encircling his mouth but spreading so far up his cheek it almost reached his ears.  
‘The fucks with the rock?’  
‘Language Master Jason!’ Alfred scolded lightly. ‘This sir is a pumice stone. It’s use is to soften the hard skin on your feet, you are a young gentleman Master Jason, not Tarzan.’  
Swallowing a mouthful of ice cream, Jason looked around the kitchen again with a little sigh. This wasn’t so bad, maybe he could actually do what Anita said and stay for more than 5 minutes?  
‘Nah, Batman’s Tarzan. He swings from buildings instead of trees and Catwoman is Jane and, and maybe that’s why he’s Batman the way Tarzan is Tarzan? His parents mauled to death by a jaguar or the mob, or summit?’  
There was a long silence and Jason placed his spoon down in the empty bowl, wincing at the large clang that echoed around him.  
‘Hmm, decorum is not our strong point is it sir? How would Batman feel if he heard you talking about his parents in such a manner?’ Alfred asked, lifting Jason’s feet out of the water he noticed how the boy seemed to think about this but apparently not being able to come up with an answer.  
Inspecting the itching lesions from the socks, Alfred stood back up with a shake of his head.  
‘That’s much better sir, I shall acquire some cream for the fungal infection when we go upstairs.’  
Frowning, Jason swung his legs again and cocked his head at Alfred in thought.  
‘Why does Mr Wayne have fungal foot cream?’  
‘He develops Athlete’s Foot from time to time sir.’  
‘Why?’  
Pausing, Alfred’s lips tugged upwards slightly as he collected the bowl and set it in the dishwasher.  
‘Such an inquisitive young man, sir. Master Bruce does a lot of night time running.’  
Jason blinked at that, the image of a man like Mr Wayne running around Gotham’s streets didn’t seem right. That’s what Batman did.

Alfred appraised the young man who was clearly trying to work that one out, before bending down to take the ratty rucksack by his feet.  
'Come sir, I do feel a bath is drastically required.'  
'No!' Came a petrified screech.  
This confused the butler, who turned to look at the boy wondering what on earth had distressed him so much, so quickly.  
Jason held out a trembling hand towards his bag, chest heaving with sharp, rapid breaths.  
'That's mine! No one touches it!'  
Straightening up, Alfred looked down at the bag in his hands before looking back over at his new charge in curiosity.  
'Indeed Master Jason, I had gathered that this belonged to you. I am merely taking it to your rooms.’ He started to walk off but paused when he didn’t here the scrap of a chair. ‘If you would please follow me sir, I am showing you to your rooms.’  
Nodding, Jason leapt down from the chair, gasping at the cool feel of the floor beneath his feet. Wiggling his toes, he closed his eyes in bliss, that felt amazing.  
‘Sometime this evening if you would be so kind?’  
Jason’s eyes shot open and he was off, jogging after Alfred, who was walking away with his bag. Quite frankly, Alfred could have lead him into the fires of hell and he would have followed, the infuriating man had his bag! He did consider creating a scene, screaming, shouting and demanding that he was given his bag back. Past lessons advised against such behaviour, and one look at this Alfred guy, had Jason quickly deducing that it was easier to just do as told.

Jason barely noticed anything around him, he just followed behind Alfred, eyes glued to his bag, just incase.  
'Here we are Master Jason, these shall be your quarters. I hope it is agreeable, although the decor and furnishings may be changed to suit your particular tastes.'  
Frowning, Jason stepped through the door opened for him and for a moment wondered if Alfred had made a mistake?  
Instead of the usual furniture you found in a bedroom, like a bed, there was a small, leather couch, coffee table and a TV with all the mod cons. A few cupboards and sideboards dotted around, all of which looked empty.  
'This will be your sitting room Sir.'  
'My-' shaking a head that had been aching ever since the Batman had ditched him at the City Hall this morning, Jason tried to make sense of what he was being told and coming up with nothing. 'My sitting room?'  
His question went unanswered though as another door was opened and he was ushered inside.  
'This will be your bedroom, there are spare blankets in the cupboard should you find yourself cold in the night.'  
Jason frowned at the bed, it was king size and was drowning in cushions, pillows and blankets. There were even blankets for the blankets, he quite honestly had no idea how someone could get cold sleeping in that and quickly decided that Alfred was mad.

Pursing his lips, Alfred watched the boy walk around, almost in a trance, he looked as if he were about to test the mattress before looking down at himself and thinking better of it.  
'Did Ms Farrow say when they would be bringing over the rest Sir?' Alfred asked, placing the bag down in the bed.  
The boy cocked his head and looked up at him as if he were completely loopy.  
'The rest of what?'  
'Your belongings, Sir.' Alfred began before looking back at the tatty old rucksack and the penny dropped. 'Are all in what I only loosely call a bag, ah.' Suddenly the boy's attachment to the flea ridden article made sense.  
'Very well, just place your pyjamas on the bed for later and-'  
The boy blinked back at him with an expression that bordered on surly and Alfred just sighed.  
'Does the young sir own a toothbrush?'  
Jason nodded briskly and set about foraging in his bag before producing something that may have once been a toothbrush in another life. Taking one look at the faded plastic and what might have once been bristles, Alfred began mentally arranging a dental appointment.  
'Oh goody.' Sighing, he shook his head before looking up at the boy. 'Just, wait there Master Jason. I shall return shortly with some new toiletries and a pair of pyjamas.'

'Er, sure?' Jason mumbled in reply before watching Alfred disappear through another door, before reappearing again.  
That was it!  
Alfred wasn't Batman. Alfred was a game of whack a mole!  
Pausing on his way out of the door which Jason knew lead out into his apparent sitting room, Alfred threw him a warm smile and motioned to his bag.  
'Do you have anything of sentimental value in there Sir?'  
'Yeah?' Jason grumbled, eyeing up the butler warily, trying to work out why he needed to know that.  
Nodding curtly, Alfred motioned around the room.  
'Please do unpack those sir and leave the bag in that hamper over there.'  
'Why? What are you gonna do with it?' Jason questioned, looking at the wicker hamper suspiciously.  
'I am going to try my best sir, however, I fear the incinerator may be our only hope.'

Jason wasn't entirely sure if Alfred meant that or not? Stupid ass social workers and even Mr Wayne had told him all day that this was going to be a safe, forever, home, but Alfred struck him as someone who would snap him like a damn twig.  
What was a safe, forever, home anyway? He wasn't one of those emancipated puppies you saw on posters!  
Deciding that maybe he'd diced with death enough times in the last 48 hours, Jason took out the few belongings he actually cared about and placed the bag that held the rest of his life in the hamper. All that was left really was his tooth brush, a couple of pairs of jeans, a pair of boxers, and a spare jumper.  
Now what?  
Rocking on the balls of his feet, Jason sucked on his bottom lip anxiously, his eyes roaming the strange room. His gaze rested on the bed so huge he was sure to get lost in it if he slept there by himself, unless- no, he wasn’t going to think about that yet.  
What was he meant to be doing now? Waiting? He was okay with waiting, it was now late evening and he'd been waiting around all day, he could handle waiting a bit longer.  
His eyes searched the bedroom again, this was his room. He could feel the warm plush of the carpet beneath his feet, wiggling his toes, Jason chuckled at the soft, fuzzy feeling.  
Now what?  
What was he supposed to do?  
There was a soft, yellow glow from under the other door that Alfred had gone through before. Was he meant to go through there?

Deciding that was the best idea, well, it was his only idea, Jason crept over to the door and popped his head around it before jumping back with a startled gasp. Gathering up his already frazzled nerves, Jason forced himself to open the door fully and look inside.  
It was a bathroom.  
It was huge.  
Complete with toilet, sink, cabinets, shower and a corner bath. Everything was so clean and white it seemed to sparkle. The bath was filled with steaming water that looked green and smelt funny, Jason decided that no one was getting him in there, the bubbles were clearly a trap.  
'Ah, I see you have found your bathroom Master Jason.'  
Swallowing down a startled shriek, Jason turned to see Alfred stood between him and the door, a pair of pale blue, cotton pyjamas hanging on one arm and holding a small bag of toiletries.  
'I am afraid we shall have to make to do with an old pair of Master Richard's pyjamas. However, I shall ensure that along with the tailors, we shall go shopping for more, basic, articles tomorrow.'  
'Tailors?'  
'They make gentlemen's clothing, sir.'  
'I know that.' Jason snapped defensively, looking up to see Alfred's eyes twinkle in amusement.  
'Very good, sir. Perhaps you are not a lost cause after all, now, off with those clothes and into the tub Master Jason.'  
Gulping, Jason looked from the tub to the door behind Alfred, a familiar slimy, ice cold feeling coiling in his belly. His eyes snapped to the sink and he smacked his lips to try and look a little less pathetic.  
'Nah, nah I'm good. I'll erm, just wash me face and hands.'  
'Master Jason, that was not a request. I am sure that somewhere underneath all that grime is a very handsome young man, now, get in the tub, sir.'

Suddenly, Jason was left alone standing on the bath mat looking at the death pool. Being left alone came at quite a bit of a shock, he’d been expecting everything to hurtle down a very familiar path, but Alfred had allowed him privacy. The slimy feeling grew and with trembling fingers, Jason started to fumble with the buckle on his belt, all fight deciding to sell out on him. He didn’t want Alfred to get mad, he didn’t know what Alfred would do to him.  
Jason was a tidy boy, he liked everything to be ordered, with everything in its place. He didn’t have a place for his clothes, so he decided to fold them up neatly and leave them on the chair, deciding to not even begin to question why he had a chair in the freaking bathroom. Taking a deep breath, he looked back at the bath, scratching slightly at the itch on his groin. He couldn’t remember taking a bath before. Now, Jason had obviously washed a few times in his life, but they had been odd showers or his mamá washing him in the sink when he’d been little. He didn’t know what it was he was supposed to do? Alfred hadn’t left any rules or instructions and the shakiness inside him increased. The image of Cathrine dipping her hand in the water to collect the washing up liquid bubbles and blowing them with a smile, danced across his mind’s eye.  
Stepping cautiously into water that was hot but not scalding, Jason sat down and collected the bubbles in his hand before blowing them with a smile, just like mamá did.

Time went on and Alfred still hadn’t shown up to tell him what to do. Jason couldn’t find a bar of soap anywhere so he decided to use the expensive looking bottle of shampoo instead. He’d only ever used soap before but he thought it was like liquid soap. Squeezing a small blob on his hair, he moved it around before using another few big dollops to wash everywhere else with his hands. Mission completed.  
Looking down at the murky bath water, Jason decided to blow bubbles again.  
There was a light knock and Alfred pushed the door open lightly and stuck his head around, just as a small puff of bubbles flew into the air.  
‘Master Jason what are you doing?’  
Jason blinked and looked up at Alfred, hand still outstretched in front of him.  
‘You blow bubbles in the sink.’ He deadpanned, before glancing down at the water. ‘Bath.’  
Alfred’s brow furrowed with concern as he stepped in and he studied the boy very carefully.  
‘Master Jason, you do know what a bath is used for?’  
Nodding, Jason tapped lightly on the porcelain and looked back up at the butler blankly.  
‘It’s like a big sink. You wash stuff in it.’  
Alfred blinked for a moment before inclining his head.  
‘Then why sir, have you not washed?’  
Jason frowned and lifted the very empty bottle of shampoo with an arched eyebrow.  
‘I have? I used this. You gots no soap?’  
‘Oh Dear Lord!’

Bruce walked through the grandfather clock to the sound of an unholy din. For a moment, the young, high pitched squeal confused him, until he remembered.  
Jason.  
He'd brought Jason home with him today. The reassurance of the identity of the yelling proved to be ineffective of relieving his confusion though. Dick had been quiet and timid after he'd been brought here from the children's home, his little mind clouded with awe at the grandeur of the Manor House and the grief of losing his parents. Not once did the boy ever kick off the way Jason currently was. What on earth could have caused him to lash out like this?  
Making his way slowly up the stairs, he stepped inside Jason’s room and made his way towards the bathroom.  
‘You fucking touch me with that thing again I’ll scream rape!’ Jason practically screeched, and Bruce’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. Never had he ever heard a child with a mouth quite like Jason’s, and the fact that he’d said something like that to Alfred was more than a little alarming.  
‘Master Jason, ‘that thing’ is called a flannel. I am merely attempting to aid you with your bathing.’  
Deciding enough was enough, Bruce in knocked on the door and stepped inside. 

The bathroom looked like a bomb had gone off in it. Water was everywhere and somehow, an entire bottle of shampoo was gone and lying on the floor bizarrely, Jason’s clothes were folded neatly on the chair.  
‘Master Bruce! I did not realise you had arrived home sir. Is it that time already?’  
Shaking his head, Brice looked from the hyperventilating boy in the tub to Alfred blankly.  
‘No, I came home early. To see how Jason was settling in.’ He explained, the corners of his lips twitching up slightly. ‘I see he is as fiery as ever. Jason, give poor Alfred a break. He’s our friend.’  
‘Not my friend he’s not!’ Jason spat, crossing his arms over his chest he looked up at Bruce suspiciously.  
‘Alfred, that will be all. Go have a well deserved cup of tea, I’ll take it from here.’  
Bruce noticed the shudder of fear that coursed through Jason as Alfred got up and thrust the sopping wet flannel into his hands.  
‘May God be with you sir, you shall need it.’ Alfred said, glancing once more at the quivering boy in the tub, he leant forward to mutter into Bruce’s ear. ‘I advise to tread carefully sir, something is not right. I shall go fetch the clippers, the feral child has brought pets with him.’

Jason watched the hushed conversation but couldn’t make out the words so it was clearly about him. Mr Wayne glanced in his direction before dismissing Alfred with a nod and kneeling down next to the tub with an arched eyebrow.  
‘Was yelling like that really required Jason?’  
Jason swallowed and pressed his thighs tightly together beneath the water, hoping Mr Wayne wouldn’t notice. Anita had left without saying goodbye.  
‘Sorry sir.’  
Bruce’s gaze softened and he dipped the flannel into the bath water before wringing it out.  
‘Bruce is fine Jason. Did Alfred change the bath water?’  
Nodding, Jason followed the path of the flannel unblinking, and held out an arm for Bruce to begin scrubbing him. There really was never much point in fighting, it just elongated the inevitable.  
‘What do you like to be called?’  
‘Whatever you like, Bruce.’ Jason whispered, watching the large hand, that was oddly calloused for a man of leisure, slip beneath the water. Bruce smiled and chucked his chin with his dry hand.  
‘Nonsense. Names are important Jason, they give us power.’  
‘They do? How?’ Jason asked, despite the pit of snakes in his stomach, captivated by the words that left the man’s lips, like Batman, he’d made sense too. Bruce’s eyes sparkled, like that of mischievous imp with a secret to tell.  
‘Once you have a name, it is yours. A collection of sounds that make up a word that describes you. That name has the power to hold an image of you that others remember. So, what would you like me to call you?’  
Jason thought about this, his free hand that wasn’t being scrubbed within in an inch to his life trailing through a small mound of bubbles.  
‘Jay. I like being called, Jay. I’m only called Jason when I’m in trouble.’

‘Ah, so that’s why the social worker called you Jason.’ Bruce joked, hoping to ease the low hum of tension in the room, but he wasn’t overly successful. Jason smiled shyly before dropping his gaze again and sucking on his bottom lip. Bruce hummed and set about scrubbing the boy’s back, noting how many bruises he had gained from last night’s escapades.  
‘Brine. I think that’s such an odd word, it just doesn’t sit right. Brine.’ Rolling the word around his mouth, Jason swirled his hands in the water again and fought to not shake when the flannel reached around to wash his chest.  
‘Brine, is a blue-green and is in fact salt water that why you call it the briny sea. I still don’t like the word brine. No, definitely not, we should come up with better words than brine. Malachite, now that word sounds right, not so ‘iny’ as brine.’  
‘Hmm, interesting, what about turquoise? I like the sound of that word.’ Bruce replied in a soft tone, noticing the anxiety that seemed to spark off the boy’s very being, his previous observation about Jason’s trips into fantasy world were solidified further. He placed the flannel firmly in the boy’s hands.  
‘Here, why don’t you finish off washing yourself? Just copy what I did on the rest of you.’  
Jason’s eyes widened at the flannel and he lifted his head to look at Bruce in surprise, his lip once again disappearing inside his mouth.  
‘Below the waist, chum. As much as I am looking forward to getting to know you Jay, I don’t think that would be appropriate do you?’  
Instead of the relief Bruce expected to see, Jason glanced down towards his groin before nodding slowly.  
‘You prefer your boys to be clean?’

Nodding, Bruce smiled and moved to place a couple of towels and the pyjamas on the chair, tossing the soiled clothes into the laundry basket as he did so. Again, his preliminary assessment of Jason during their last couple of meetings was proving to be correct. The boy was very literal and craved order, routine and very explicit instruction.  
‘That’s right, I like my children to be nice and clean.’ He said, his smile growing to see that Jason had already dipped the flannel beneath the water to repeat the actions he’d seen Bruce doing. The mention of a sink suggesting that it had been the first time in a very long time that the boy had been shown correct personal hygiene by an adult.  
‘Once you are done Jay, I would like you to get out, pull the plug, dry yourself, including your hair, with the towels and dress in the pyjamas. You may then use the bathroom and brush your teeth. Alfred would like to cut your hair and comb it through for lice before you may retire to bed.’  
Finally the relief he expected to see appeared, and Jason very visually seemed to be able to settle himself back into reality with a small smile.  
‘Yes, Bruce. Those aren’t towels though. They are too big and not scratchy. Towels are scratchy.’  
Chuckling, Bruce shot him a fond look and shrugged a shoulder.  
‘I’m afraid that’s all I have. Will you be able to make do?’  
Jason nodded and studied the towels again pensively.

‘That’s my champ. I’ll leave you to it then and see you in the morning for breakfast.’  
This seemed to confuse Jason and he appeared to startle before glancing over at the door.  
‘We are not going to be together tonight?’ He asked, and although Bruce noted the hesitancy there, he just chalked it down to Jason being nervous about his first night at the manor.  
‘It’s very late Jay and you must be very tired, I promise we’ll do something together tomorrow.’ Bruce replied, frowning slightly when Jason ducked his head down and let out a very shaky breath.  
‘Okay.’ He practically whispered into the bubbles.  
‘Good night Jay. My room is just down the hall. You need anything, anything at all, even just a chat, my door is open okay? And just so you know, I am very pleased to have you here.’  
Nodding again, Jason watched Bruce leave silently. The strange man was very odd but he seemed familiar, despite him knowing for a fact that he had never met Bruce before today. He wasn’t dumb, he knew sometimes he said weird things or didn’t do what adults expected him to do. Bruce and Alfred though seemed to enjoy talking to him, which was a first. Most adults never really seemed that bothered by what he had to say.  
Stepping out of the water, Jason pulled the plug and wrapped a towel around himself, humming at the soft fabric-y feel on his skin. Could it be that for once, he had managed to pull off acting normal?

Either way, Bruce was a nice man Jason had decided. He had even said he did not wish for his company until tomorrow. The reprieve was welcomed.


	3. Doublethink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred takes Jason shopping.

Jason couldn't sleep.  
Rolling over, the boy threw yet another stupid blanket off himself and tried in vain to cool down.  
It was no use.  
There were two many blankets and Jason could not find sweet blessed relief from the heat that consumed him.  
It was funny in a way, he actually couldn't think of a time when he had been too hot, in October!

It wasn't just the warmth though. The bed was too soft. Grimacing, Jason shoved his arms beneath his pillow in an attempt to harden it with little success. It was like sleeping in the middle of a marshmallow. He knew he was being an ungrateful brat. He knew of so many who would kill to sleep in a bed like this, dry and warm. But it was too warm.  
'Fuck this.' Jason spat at the oppressing room with its oven like temperature. Flinging back the covers, the boy stropped over to the window seat and eyed it up thoughtfully before discarding it, the seat was padded. He clambered on anyway and threw open the windows before moving to do the same to the adjacent ones. A small gasp of relief left his lips at the feel of the icy autumnal air on his small frame, biting through the thin cotton of the pyjamas he wore.  
Pulling a single pillow and the thinnest blanket he could find off the bed, he curled up at the foot of the window seat. The floor was hard, even with the plush carpet, and pressed into the bruises on his hips. Resting his head on the pillow, Jason could hear the pipes humming and hissing away.  
After being throughly scrubbed and having most of his hair shaved off before being made to wear pyjamas and lie in an overheated marshmallow for a bed, Jason finally felt like Jason.  
Shivering, he pulled up the covers to shelter from the frosty breeze and decided to close his eyes.  
Hopefully he could quiet his mind long enough to fall asleep in this madhouse.

It was still dark when Jason woke up from a fitful sleep. Rubbing at his eyes, Jason sat up and squinted at the clock on the bedside table. It was 5.30 am.   
He had fallen asleep at 1.30 am, he’d had 4 hours sleep and in Jason's book that was more than enough to last him the day. He couldn't have fallen back to sleep even if he'd tried, his mind was already having a mini freak out because he had over slept by half an hour. Until yesterday, Jason had to be up early if he had any hope of eating or earning money in ways that didn't make him want to claw at himself from the inside. Even with Ma Gunn.   
Today was different. Jason knew this, but his mind clearly was having a hard time playing catch up.  
Sighing, the boy scrambled to his feet and began making his bed. He had to admit it was a struggle and he didn't know where half of the useless, fluffy, soft things went. Sure, he had made his own bed before, had made other people's beds before, but never one this big, with this many fucking blankets .   
Jason was ready to kill, muttering every expletive he knew, the last scatter cushion was finally put in place. The thought that he would have to get back into it again tonight made him want to openly weep.  
And then it was back to silence again, at least the sun was starting to make an appearance now.  
Deciding to go to bathroom he did his business, brushed his teeth and inspected all the lotions and potions he’d found in the cabinet. Most, Jason deemed to smell disgusting. He also had no idea what moisturiser actually did, but by the sickly vanilla smell he didn't want to find out. The towels he still thought to be too fluffy and thick to be a towel and were more like blankets. Not that he needed anymore, fucking, blankets.

With the bathroom and then his bedroom thoroughly explored, (he only found more blankets and pillows in the bedroom and an electric blanket, just incase you liked your children well done in the morning), Jason stumbled into his apparent sitting room and switched on the light. The cupboards and sideboards were as he expected them to be, empty. His eyes were drawn to the bare bookshelf and he dashed off back to his bedroom and found his book from the belongings he had managed to save from Alfred's cleansing. It was a very used, very tatty copy of ‘The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe', and it did have a few stains Jason didn't like to think about. With an almost sense of pride, he placed the book on a shelf and stepped back to smile at it. He'd always wanted a bookshelf. Not that he had any actual books to put on it but the potential was there, and Jason was happy to live in wonderland for a few minutes.  
His stomach grumbled.

Turning away from the bookshelf, Jason studied the closed door which he knew lead out to the manor. Bruce had said something about breakfast, he had mastered the maze of back alleys of the Bowery it wouldn't take him long to find the kitchen.  
But was he allowed to leave this room?  
Worrying his bottom lip, little hands formed fists as he stared at the door.  
Alfred hadn't locked it when he said good night to him, he had listened carefully to see if he did.  
That meant he was allowed out, right?  
But then Jason had been dumb enough to be fooled by such tricks in the the past and paid the price for it. What if this was a test? A test to see how obedient he was. The shakiness in his chest grew and much to his chagrin, Jason noticed that his hands had started trembling. Anita had told him to act normal, not smoke, smile and to stand there and not touch anything. Anita had left, but the words echoed around him as if she were still stood in the room with him. Expensive black coat, polished heels and a face that was only ever exasperated with him.  
‘Stand there and don’t touch anything, Jason.’  
Nodding, Jason let out a wavering breath and squared his feet, feeling the grounding pull of the soft pile rug. He could do that, Jason was used to standing still.

It was quickly approaching 8 am. Sipping his coffee, Bruce lifted his eyes to look up from the newspaper at the clock hung on the kitchen wall. With a thoughtful hum, he lowered the newspaper and looked down at the empty chair next to him, bowl, plate and glass sat waiting for its user to arrive. Alfred was busy placing enough fruit to keep a troupe of monkeys happy in the blender and didn’t seem to be worried that no little boy had shown himself yet. Bruce looked back at Jason’s empty place and pursed his lips.  
‘Maybe I should go check on the boy?’  
Scoffing, Alfred shook his head and wandered over to the fridge to collect some yoghurt.  
‘Has Master Richard been gone that long sir? Young boys do not grace us with their presence until nearly lunchtime, especially after a day that Master Jason had yesterday, sir.’  
The blender hummed to life and Bruce accepted Alfred’s explanation and went back to reading his newspaper. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t concentrate on the stock market figures. He’d followed Jason a few times on patrol. The boy slept little and usually was awake by 5 am no matter what had occurred during the night before. It was a survival tactic, reducing the amount of time he was asleep and vulnerable to the bare minimum. He doubted Ma Gunn had done much work with him to reset his body clock, and Bruce of all people knew how hard it was to stay asleep when one was used to waking after a few mere hours.  
‘I wish to see him before I leave.’ Bruce spoke up, lowering his newspaper again to look at the empty seat and he could practically feel Alfred’s disapproving glare.  
‘Master Bruce, you are the one who decided to delay your paternity leave. I must advise that you do not bother Master Jason just because you have a meeting.’  
‘It’s not that. Somethings not right, Alfred. He should be awake by now.’  
Decision made, Bruce was deaf to anything else Alfred had to say and made his was swiftly up to Jason’s room and knocked the door.

He didn’t get an answer, and for a moment, Bruce felt more than a little bashful. Maybe Alfred was right and the boy was getting the rest he very much needed? He knocked again a final time just to make sure.  
‘Hello?’  
Came a small voice, and like a shot Bruce was opening the door and striding in. Stopping dead in his tracks, Bruce shook his head and looked again.  
Jason was indeed awake.  
Awake and stood in the middle of his sitting room still dressed in pyjamas. The boy hadn’t even put on the dressing gown and slippers which had been left out for him.  
‘Jay? You alright there chum? What are you doing?’  
Inhaling sharply, Jason lifted his head and looked up at him with such sad eyes, Bruce had to fight not to look away.  
‘Standing here and not touching anything.’  
The statement hit Bruce in the face like a blast of icy cold wind, leaving him floundering for a moment, before closing the space between them and kneeling down in front of Jason.  
‘Jay? Jay, who told you to do that son? I didn’t and I’m sure Alfred wouldn’t have.’  
Jason sucked on his bottom lip, his eyes dropping to study his feet again.  
‘Anita did. Before she left? She didn’t say goodbye not that it matters.’ 

Bruce blinked and reached out to take Jason’s hand, it took a moment for him to remember that Anita was the social worker he’d wanted to sucker punch in the face. His fingers curled around little ones and Bruce had to swallow down a gasp at how cold they were.  
‘Jesus, Jay your hands are ice cold, how long have you been standing there for?’  
Jason just shook his head and carried on staring at his feet.  
‘Never mind. Jay can you look at me please?’ Bruce asked, watching the boy wince before lifting his eyes again hesitantly. ‘Jay, I have a new rule for you okay? I don’t want you to stand still and not touch anything. This is your home now, just as much as it is mine or Dick’s or Alfred’s. When you wake up in the morning? The new rule is that you get dressed and come downstairs to have breakfast, okay?’  
The lip disappeared again and Jason nodded, a slight smile tugging at his lips. Apparently he approved of that rule. Smiling back, Bruce strode over to Jason’s dressing gown and slippers and knelt back down to give them to him.  
‘Here, put these on and we shall go find Alfred and have some breakfast.’  
Jason happily allowed him to slip on the thick, navy dressing gown, but he stepped back a bit from the slippers.  
‘Please, can- I like having bare feet.’ He mumbled, fiddling with the tie on his dressing gown as Bruce stood and studied him thoughtfully.  
‘Erm, sure champ, your feet aren’t too cold?’  
Shaking his head, Jason peered down at his toes and wiggled them, a small giggle escaped his lips. He liked having bare feet, it felt nice, real nice.

Alfred raised an eyebrow at the state of his dress but made no comment instead he asked what Jason preferred to eat in the morning. It was an easy enough question, Jason knew that, but he’d always just eaten whatever presented itself at the time. To actually have a choice was a new and precious concept, like a pearl in the middle of the millionth clam he’d opened on the murky ocean floor. When chocolate chip pancakes were offered though, that immediately sparked the boy’s interest and he was surprised even further that the apparent condition to having those was the promise of more food, a side of fruit salad.  
This really was a bizarre place if extra food was deemed to a condition for having food.   
Alfred seemed to be pleased with his lack of argument and motioned for him to go and sit at the table. Jason nodded and went to comply before freezing. Apparently Bruce was sat at the kitchen table too, he’d assumed rich people ate in the extravagant dining room he knew probably existed. 

Creeping slowly up, he pulled out his chair and sat down gingerly, sneaking a look at Bruce picking at his own fruit salad.  
‘I’m eating with you?’  
Pausing with a spoonful of fruit halfway to his mouth, Bruce’s brow furrowed a little before he cleared his throat and looked at him.  
‘If that is alright with you Jay? I suppose I could finish my breakfast in the sunroom?’  
Jason shook his head and watched Alfred place his breakfast in front of him thoughtfully. He didn’t know what the sunroom was. In his head, he pictured a room that housed the actual sun, and with the heat and amount of radiation the sun possessed, that seemed a rather deadly room to sit in.  
‘No, no this is okay. I don’t want ya gettin’ burned up.’ Jason replied, before immediately descending on his pancakes with a pleased hum. Bruce’s eyebrows had once again taken residence in his hairline and he glanced over at Alfred who was trying not to laugh. Somehow, Jason had managed to break through his friend’s iron tight, stiff upper lip.   
‘Indeed Master Bruce, it would be a regrettable loss if we were to throw you into the sun.’  
Shoving a mouthful of pancake to one side, Jason looked over at Alfred and shook his head, apparently oblivious to the fact that the butler was joking.  
‘Nah-mph, we, calls ‘uperman. He likes da sun. He cam save Bruce.’   
‘Young gentlemen do not speak with their mouthful, Master Jason.’ Alfred chided, just about hiding an amused smirk at Bruce only just managing not to say anything about Mr Kent saving him.

Breakfast past smoothly and if Jason wasn’t mistaken, Bruce and Alfred at least were pretending to enjoy his company. Oddly, Bruce didn’t come anywhere near him, except the one time their thighs brushed when the man got up saying he was going to work. Jason was pretty sure that had been accidental and nothing more. Once breakfast was finished with, the day exploded and Jason wasn’t entirely sure what happened.  
Alfred took him back upstairs and he was given a set of clean clothes that apparently once belonged to Dick Grayson. Jason felt wrong in the borrowed clothes and he glared down at the socks he’d been given. He didn’t like socks he’d decided. It was like he’d eaten fruit from the Tree of Knowledge and to go back to that confining and uncomfortable existence was not something he wished to do. So he had ignored the socks and just shoved on his borrowed trainers in the hopes that Alfred wouldn’t notice.  
The man either didn’t notice or didn’t care, because no sooner were the shoes on his feet and he was out of the door wrapped up like a precious thing you bought in shops. Apparently it was so he wouldn’t get cold, glancing down at the thick gloves, scarf and padded coat, Jason was pretty sure he could go on an expedition to the Arctic and not get cold. 

Their first stop had been the dentist. Alfred had approached the subject as if he were a ticking bomb sat in the backseat of the car and for the life of him, Jason couldn’t understand why?  
He had never been to a dentist before and the concept was intriguing. He had been a flowing river of ‘what’s that do?’ and ‘whys?’. Poking and prodding at things until Alfred told him to sit on his hands before he cut them off. Jason wasn’t sure if Alfred meant it so he did as told.  
Apparently that wasn’t good enough though, because the dentist injected floaty shit into his gums, pulled at least two teeth out, drilled into a few others and then blasted his mouth with what he could only describe as a foul tasting power hose, finishing off with shoving moulds into his mouth to make apparent mouth guards. Apparently the school he was being sent to required them and Jason was concerned about what sort of games they were expecting him to play?  
By the time he had come around a bit with a sore mouth and a foul mood, Jason poked the wads of cotton wool around in his mouth and decided that he liked dentists just as much as he liked doctors, nurses, cops and social workers, not one little bit.

Alfred at least seemed to be sympathetic to his cause and had taken Jason to an ice cream parlour for lunch. This Jason had no qualms about what-so-ever and the ice cold desert was heavenly on his poor abused gums that ached like he’d taken a right hook to the jaw.  
He wasn’t expected to speak, which after the rather embarrassing memory he had of spouting off about harpies and unicorns high off his face, was a thankful relief Jason couldn’t quite vocalise.  
It had been hard trying to decipher the menu. Jason had only ever really had the odd scoop of ice cream before and he didn’t like to think about who’d bought it for him. To have this whole list of different varieties and concoctions was overwhelming, and it was difficult to process all the different options. He hadn’t said a word, but Alfred leant over and pointed out the Neapolitan ice cream which had three different flavours. The man had to be a mind reader. Smiling, Jason nodded and handed over his menu expecting to have his usual single scoop, but yet again, he was left bemused when a huge glass bowl arrived filled to the brim. Jason shook his head and collected his spoon. Hansel and Gretel came to mind as he took his first mouthful and he cast a glance over at Alfred sipping a cup of tea. He had been given dinner, breakfast and now lunch, the only reason to feed him so much was that Alfred was planning on putting him in a pie. Jason liked pie, he hoped it was pumpkin. He’d taste nice in a pumpkin pie he decided, spooning in another mouthful of ice cream quite happily.

The next stop on Jason’s grand adventure was the tailors Alfred had spoken about. At first, Jason was intrigued by the old fashioned shop with bolts of fabric that seemed to have stepped out of a storybook. He enjoyed rubbing his hands over the material, and was surprised when Alfred requested the fabrics he spent the most time stroking. However, once Jason had been told in no uncertain terms that he would not be getting breeches and he was not going to be a kitchen boy, he lost interest in choosing pattern designs. Instead, Jason wandered off and discovered a tub of spare buttons. The glittering display of gold, silver and bronze caught his eye and he made his way over. The buttons were just all shoved together in one box, a mix match of colours and sizes that made his head hurt. Kneeling down in the far corner of the tailors, Jason tipped out the box, watching the river of buttons falling to the carpeted floor to the sound of rain. One quick glance proved that he had not gained Alfred’s attention, who was now talking about informal and formal school uniforms. Which was silly because schools didn’t have uniforms. Going back to the buttons, Jason began ordering them by colour and size, the action easing the hubbub in his head and muting everything else around him. Like the drugs at the dentist, leaving him floating in a bubble of bliss that he didn’t really want to pop anytime soon.   
But pop it did.

‘Oh gosh! Sir! Are you alright? Oh my, don’t bother yourself picking them up. I’ll do it.’ A young woman shrieked, dashing over to where Jason was sat quite happily sorting through buttons. The high pitched voice jolted Jason’s equilibrium, and he covered his ears with a wince and stared up at her blankly. A small, distressed whimper left his lips without permission when the woman quickly began scooping up the buttons and putting them back in the tub.  
‘Master Jason? What’s going on?’ Alfred called over, making his way to the boy sat back on his haunches with his hands clasped firmly over his ears. The assistant looked like she wanted to cry and immediately began trying to explain an incident she hadn’t witnessed. How the buttons had fallen over and she was so sorry, reiterating how much the Wayne’s custom was valued.  
Alfred listened to woman politely before looking down at Jason, who still had not uncovered his ears.  
‘Is that true Master Jason?’  
Jason pursed his lips and whimpered again. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t want to get into trouble. One look at the woman on the verge of tears though and he knew he shouldn’t get her in trouble either.  
‘N-No Alfred. It was me. I took the buttons. I-I didn’t mean ta steal ‘em I swear. I just- look, it’s better now? The buttons are all together now.’ Jason tried to explain, but the words never quite came out the way he wanted. He glanced up at Alfred expecting him to be angry but instead, the man was smiling and holding out his hand to him.  
‘You have done a fine job, Master Jason but come now, it is time to take your measurements sir.’ Looking over at the woman when Jason took his hand, he inclined his head. ‘Do not fret, Miss. Master Jason meant no harm. He enjoys ordering things.’  
‘Oh! I do apologise sir, I meant no offence. We of course strive to meet your every need. Please, do feel free to use one of our cutting tables next time, sir.’ The woman said with a smile, and it took Jason a moment to realise she was addressing him. She exchanged a knowing look with Alfred as if there was some meaning behind this conversation he wasn’t part of.  
‘Okay. I’m sorry for upsetting you.’ Jason replied, hoping it was the right thing to say. The woman did some weird face as if he’d turned into a fluffy bunny and just dismissed his apology before walking away. 

Jason followed her as he was tugged along to stand in front of another man, he wasn’t too sure if the lady was upset of not?  
A hand on his inner thigh shocked him out of his thoughts and Jason froze, shooting a look at Alfred, who seemed completely at ease with what was going on. The tailor hummed and quickly moved to wrap tape measure around his middle and by this point, Jason had begun shaking despite himself.  
‘He’s very small for his age.’ The tailor observed, inclining his head towards Alfred who nodded in agreement.   
‘Indeed. However, Master Wayne is sure, that with the right nutrition, Master Jason shall soon catch up with his peers.’ Alfred replied, smiling at Jason but the boy just frowned in confusion, apparently not picking up on the reassuring body language. ‘Are we quite done now? Master Jason has a tight schedule to keep.’

Jason honestly had no idea what the tailors was all about. Neither did he have the time to think it over, before he knew it Alfred was paying and then they left. The assistant gave him a small bag filled with buttons for him to take. They did look very sparkly, he spent the drive to wherever they were going next, holding the bag to the sunlight and watching them twinkle like daytime stars.  
Apparently the mall was the next stop. Jason least favourite place in the world. It was full of people and noise and everything else. Clutching his buttons tightly in his hand, Jason made sure to walk directly behind Alfred who was wittering about what it was they were going to buy and where. It turned out to be an entire wardrobe for him, which Jason found odd as he’d only ever had a couple of changes of clothes and one pair of shoes before.   
He thought after the tailors Alfred would want him close by but once inside the store, Jason was allowed to wander the aisles at will. Occasionally, Alfred told him to find something, like a scarf, Jason paused to cock his head at the display. Alfred had pointed towards this stand of woollen ones. The wool was rough and scratchy and even the ones that were more expensive, and he refused to buy on principle, didn’t feel nice at all against his cheek. Why did he need a scarf anyway when all he did was go from a house to a car? He was hardly at risk of developing hypothermia.

‘Have you chosen a scarf yet, Master Jason?’ Alfred asked, walking up behind him pushing a cart.  
Jason shook his head and scowled at the display in disgust. He didn’t want a scarf and he most definitely didn’t need one so why was it such a big deal?  
‘That is only one display sir, what about the others?’  
One of the others?   
Looking back up at Alfred he followed his line of sight to the other displays and shook his head in disbelief. People had more money than God damn sense. One scarf did catch his eye. It was in the bargain basket. It was black and fluffy.   
Walking over he ran his hand of the material and smiled at the texture. Lifting it out, he noticed that it wasn’t a scarf it was a snood. Slipping it over his head, Jason brushed the smooth fabric over his cheek and hummed happily, that felt good. Better than anything he had ever felt before, even better than bare feet.  
‘Can I have this one Alfred?’  
‘Master Jason, must I remind you again to stop thinking about the cost? This one is-‘ halting mid-sentence, Alfred raised an eyebrow at how calm Jason was. The boy just stood there stroking the scarf along his cheek as if nothing else in the world existed. He half wondered if the boy had ever been this content before?   
‘Very well, Master Jason. I suppose Master Bruce shall appreciate the discount.’

The ride home was silent. Alfred concentrating on the road, while Jason buried his face into his new scarf, fingers brushing over the buttons in their bag, as he stared out of the window pensively. He knew this game. He’d been bought treasures before but all gifts had a price tag. He knew this game.  
‘Sometimes they threaten you with something - something you can't stand up to, can't even think about. And then you say, ‘Don't do it to me, do it to somebody else, do it to So-and-so.’ And perhaps you might pretend, afterwards, that it was only a trick and that you just said it to make them stop and didn't mean it. But that isn't true.‘ he muttered, watching the rain drops run down window, he wondered what it would be like to be a rain drop.  
‘George Orwell? You are quite well read aren’t you Master Jason? I must say ‘1984’ is quite an adult book sir’  
‘I like the Thought Police. You must always keep thoughts in check else they can get you in trouble.’ Jason replied, his voice far away and Alfred pursed his lips.  
Jason was definitely not your average little boy.


	4. The Goddess Test

Bruce had arrived home way before Jason and Alfred rocked up. Deciding to wait a while before worrying, he made himself a cup of coffee and sat down to enjoy the peace and quiet before the storm that was his newly adopted son hit in all his glory. There was just something about Jason that made him smile, but only one evening and a morning with him had shown how much he had underestimated the boy. Yes, Jason had lost his parents, like he had, like Dick had, but that was just the tip of the iceberg. There was so much beneath the surface, and try as he might Bruce just could not get a grip on it. Sipping his coffee, Bruce loosened his tie and sighed. He supposed it was early days. It was no good wading in and demanding Jason tell him each and every little thing about his life. It would come, in time, with trust, he just had to show Jason that he could be trusted. Somehow.

The front door opened and Bruce was up and standing in the entrance hall as quick as a whippet.  
Jason appeared, carrying a small collection of bags in his hands and a smile on his face. Noticing that he had an audience, Jason stopped and waved at Bruce, sending the bags and its contents flying in all directions.  
‘Hello Bruce.’ He greeted loudly, dipping into his new jacket’s pocket he raced over to him brandishing a small plastic bag normally used for change. ‘Look! I gots buttons!’  
Blinking, Bruce stared at the buttons in puzzlement before clocking what Jason was wearing around his neck and only just stifling a laugh.  
‘Those are very nice, odd buttons.’ He began, lifting his head when Alfred entered with his own armful of bags looking completely exhausted. ‘Alfred? I sent you shopping with a little boy but you have returned with a small bear? And buttons.’  
Alfred smiled and if Bruce wasn’t mistaken he seemed to be trying not to laugh himself.  
‘Indeed. The buttons are very important. Master Jason why don’t you go with Master Bruce and show him the correct order for them to go in?’

Jason nodded before gasping and dashing back over to his discarded bags to pick them up.  
‘It’s okay. I’ll take these upstairs first, that’s where they go right?’  
‘Do not worry about them Master Jason. I shall ensure your belongings are taken to your room.’ Alfred explained with a tired smile but instead of reassuring the boy, Jason screwed his face up and shook his head.  
‘But- but you said they were mine? I have to tidy up after myself. That’s the rules Alfred!’ Jason said, his bottom lip wavering with the threat of tears. Alfred looked like he wanted to cry too and just shook his head with a very heavy sigh.  
‘Master Jason, although I welcome a young man who actually understands the definition of tidying up, it is my duty to take your bags to your room. It is how things work here. I am a butler, sir.’  
‘Of course I know the definition of ‘tidying up’ Alfred?’ Jason replied, looking more confused than ever he glanced over at Bruce. ‘Don’t you know what it means? It’s in the dictionary Bruce.’  
Bruce just chuckled at Alfred, who seemed to be daydreaming about banging his head against the banister.  
‘Jay?’ Bruce said, resting a hand on Jason’s shoulder, who seemed to be rapidly spiralling. ‘Come along, lets take off your coat and shoes. I have been waiting all day to spend some time with you. Why don’t you show me your buttons?’

Jason tensed, his eyes flicking from Alfred, to his buttons, to Bruce, before he slipped the little bag into his pocket. Swallowing thickly, he shook his head and began to unzip his jacket with trembling fingers.  
‘It’s okay.’  
Buttons where for good times, but like hell he was stupid enough to say that out loud and cause offence. After all, Bruce had bought him so many nice things, it was going to take him forever to pay the debt back, if at all. It was the perfect set up but Jason had long since past caring.  
‘Oh, alright then.’ Bruce replied, sounding a little disappointed as he helped Jason out of his jacket and shoes, smiling at the boy’s bare feet as he did so. He went to pull the fluffy monstrosity off Jason’s neck when the boy let out a small gasp and grabbed hold of it.  
‘Please, can I keep it? Just a little longer.’  
‘Jay, it’s not cold inside?’  
‘It’s not cold outside either.’ Jason countered and Bruce gave up. It wasn’t worth unsettling Jason and ruining any chance of having an enjoyable evening.  
‘Very well. So, um, how about a film? Do you like films? We can order pizza and make a night of it.’  
‘Master Bruce, must we really order in a box of high cholesterol and sugar?’ Alfred said, making his way up the stairs with the bags. Laughing, Bruce ruffled Jason’s hair and gave his friend a wink.  
‘We’re giving you a break Alfred, you deserve it after your shopping experience.’  
‘It certainly was an experience, sir.’

Jason swallowed thickly and watched Alfred ascend the stairs, leaving him alone with Bruce. A part of him wanted to shout after the man and beg him not to leave him alone. To let him help with the bags.  
‘This way champ, what films are you into? I’m a bit of a film buff myself.’ Bruce said, escorting him through another maze of fine rooms and hallways until stopping outside a door. The man looked down at him expectantly and it was only then that Jason remembered that he’d been asked a question.  
‘Um, I dunno. I-I prefer reading. Why don’t you choose?’ Jason tired to explain, but Bruce obviously didn’t understand what he was trying to say. The door opened and he was ushered into what looked like a mini cinema.  
‘Woah!’ Jason gasped, eyes widening at the absurd room. Rich people definitely had more money than sense. What was wrong with just going to the movies or having a normal TV?  
Chuckling, Bruce guided the boy to one of the small couches and sat down next to him.  
‘It’s an extravagance, this used to be the school room originally, but as I said, I like my films.’  
‘You can go to different places and worlds. See stories you’d never dream of.’ Jason mumbled, thinking that maybe films and books were similar sometimes.

‘That’s right. Now, what film would you like to watch Jay? You get to choose.’ Bruce pressed, but Jason just sighed and looked away, hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. He honestly couldn’t understand why the man was even bothering to try and groom him? Surly Bruce knew that this wasn’t his first time at the rodeo? In this world, he was pretty much a professional, it had been so long ago when the nice act and pretty things fooled him. Jason saw it for what it was, a glamour, a spell that sucked you in, made you feel special, loved, just, wanted. He allowed himself to feel it, to pretend that everything Bruce and Alfred had done was out of a genuine kindness and concern for him. It wasn’t real though, just a fictitious reality built around him like a den, and like a den, just as flimsy as the sheets and clothes pegs.  
‘What about Watership Down? Do you know it? I watched it endlessly when I was your age.’ Bruce said, sitting back down and looking at him expectantly.  
Jason blinked and shook his head slightly, when had Bruce gotten up?  
‘Oh, well it’s- ‘  
‘I know what Watership Down is about. I’ve read the book, Adams created his own world of poetry, proverbs and mythology, it was kinda cool. Bummer that the rabbits all die though.’ Jason interrupted, watching the animated film start up on the big screen.  
‘Spoilers Jay!’ Bruce teased with a smirk, but Jason just frowned and looked over at him warily.  
‘You said you’d seen it before? How is me tellin’ the end a spoiler if you already know it?’  
Shaking his head, Bruce patted Jason’s knee and offered him a wink.  
‘I was joking. What kind of pizza would you like chum?’  
‘I don’t mind, you choose.’  
Sighing, Bruce nodded it was quite obvious that Jason was preoccupied by something and wasn’t interested in engaging in the activity. He still had a long way to go.

The next morning Jason woke up in his own bed, in his pyjamas and, alone. Gasping a breath, Jason closed his eyes and tried to feel the familiar throb between his legs but there was none, neither did his already battered jaw ache. In fact, nothing ached at all. He was completely fine, untouched. That’s wasn’t right. Bruce had taken him to the cinema room and- pausing Jason racked his brains to try and remember what happened. He remembered watching the rabbit film, being captivated by the song in it, Eyes of Fire or something about eyes anyway. He remembered wanting to cry when Bruce gave him an entire cheese pizza all to himself and pulled him into a shoulder hug. He remembered the food weighing heavy in his stomach, eyes growing so heavy he rested his head in Bruce’s shoulder.  
Then? Then it got fuzzy.  
He remembered being lifted into strong arms. A hazy recollection of Bruce removing his pants and putting on pyjama bottoms. With a small cry, Jason sat bolt upright and pulled away the blankets to stare down at his pyjamas in horror.  
He had fallen asleep!  
Sharp, sour terror coiled around his stomach, squeezing to the point where it actually began to hurt.  
Bruce was going to be so angry with him. He’d fallen asleep. Wiping tears from his eyes, Jason scrambled out of bed and dashed over to pull on his dressing gown. Bruce was still trying to convince him that he cared, so maybe, just maybe the man would be willing to forgive his misdemeanour.  
A glimmer caught his attention. Pausing, Jason’s brow furrowed in confusion when he spotted his buttons sat on the bedside table. Bruce must have taken them out of his pant’s pocket, but why? Deciding to tackle one problem at a time, Jason snatched the little bag and stuffed it in the pocket of his dressing gown before racing to the kitchen.

Alfred was no where insight but to his dismay, there was Bruce, sat at the kitchen table bent over a cup of coffee and the newspaper. Jason wanted to run, run far away, but it was pointless. He had nowhere to go and no one to help him. Being here was better than where he had been before, so he took a deep breath and squeezed the bag of buttons in his pocket.  
‘B-Bruce?’  
Bruce stiffened significantly and Jason sucked in his bottom lip. It was only just dawn, maybe he shouldn’t be bothering Bruce so early in the morning. Ma Gunn always got angry with him when he was up and wandering around before 9 am, maybe Bruce felt the same way?  
‘Can’t you just be normal?’ Jason muttered the words that had been yelled at him by countless adults under his breath, closing his eyes tightly to stop the tears. Tears made adults cross.  
‘Pardon Jay? What was that?’  
Opening his eyes, Jason saw that Bruce had lowered his newspaper and a small gasp of fear left his lips. Bruce must be very, very angry with him.  
‘I-I’m sorry. For falling asleep? I didn’t mean to? I’m sorry, Bruce. Please, please I can do better, I know I can. Please, Bruce don’t be mad.’ Jason rambled, wincing when a stray tear escaped and he quickly wiped it away hoping that he wouldn’t see.  
Bruce did see. His expression softened and he motioned for Jason to sit next to him like he had yesterday.  
‘Jay, son, I’m not mad at you. You’re allowed to fall asleep. You had a very busy day yesterday and I’m assuming we didn’t sleep much the night before?’  
Jason ducked his head, feeling his cheeks burning at how easily Bruce had managed to suss him out. His gaze drifted over to Bruce’s hands and he swallowed thickly.

‘If you ain’t mad, why are your fists bust up? Only angry people have bust up fists. It’s already swollen so an ice pack is pointless, but you should wash the gravel out before you get an infection. I can do that, I know how. Let me go get a cloth and-‘  
Bruce’s hands rested on his shoulder and Jason froze, looking up at the man whose expression he couldn’t quite place, he was probably fed up with him.  
‘I’m not angry Jay. Why would I be? After you fell asleep I went to my kickboxing class.’  
That wasn’t right. Studying Bruce’s face, Jason honed in on the blood congealing on his lip.  
‘That why your lip’s split? From kickboxing? You go kickboxing at night.’  
Nodding Bruce smiled and ruffled Jason’s hair, hoping that the action would settle his enigma of a newly adopted son. Instead, Jason just pushed away from the table with a very deep set frown.  
‘Alfred said you went running at night.’ He mumbled, as he wandered off to nowhere. The cogs in his head running a million miles a minute. ‘Running isn’t kickboxing. Alfred said you went running at night.’  
Eyes widening, Bruce opened his mouth to call Jason back only for the boy to have already wandered off, lost in his own world.

‘Master Bruce, why has the young sir past me in the hallway speaking to himself? What did you do to him?’ Alfred asked as he entered the kitchen, one look at Bruce and he folded his arms in disapproval. ‘Master Bruce! Why are you down here in that state? No wonder Master Jason is unsettled when his guardian looks as if he has been in a brawl. My feral child is traumatised enough, please refrain from adding to it sir.’  
Sighing, Bruce ran both hands down his face and looked up at his friend desperately.  
‘I didn’t think. Alfred, I-I think he knows?’  
Scoffing, Alfred shook his head and set about preparing breakfast for the family.  
‘Nonsense sir. Master Jason is just trying to work out his place with us. I do believe he is struggling to process the change.‘

Jason ended up retreating back to his room. He wasn’t sure how it had happened but the buttons were out on the coffee table and he’d begun rearranging them. This time, they went behind one another. One silver, one gold, one bronze, over and over again. Jason liked his buttons, you knew where you stood with buttons.  
There was a soft knock on his door and Jason grunted in acknowledgement, too focused to bother with answering it. Alfred walked in and inclined his head.  
‘Good morning Master Jason. I am of the understanding that Master Bruce may have upset you sir?’  
Jason didn’t answer.  
Clearing his throat, Alfred stepped closer and tried again to pry the boy’s attention away from the buttons.  
‘Could you tell me what vexes you this morning sir? I cannot fix something I do not know about.’  
Jason grimaced in frustration before flicking his eyes up only to go back to his buttons.  
‘I fell asleep. Bruce got mad. Mad people bust up fists. You said Bruce goes running at night. Bruce said he goes kickboxing. He shouldn’t put ice on the fists, already swollen, no good now.’ Jason mumbled, closing his eyes tightly he pulled away from his buttons and slammed his hands over his ears, hunkering down so he was curled up in a ball. ‘You said running, he said kickboxing.’

Alfred watched the boy for a moment, before making his way over to the coffee table and looking at the buttons, his eyes widened. The buttons has been arranged into the shape of the Batsignal.  
‘Master Jason, what has this got to do with the Batman?’  
Jason peeped up from behind his knees and looked over at his buttons.  
‘I don’t know. I thought Batman was good, everyone says he’s good.’  
Alfred quirked an eyebrow and moved to sit down next to the boy with a thoughtful hum.  
‘So you believe that good people exist Master Jason?’  
Nodding, the wall of knees lowered and Jason tilted his chin at him with determination, a spark firing in his eyes that Alfred had never seen in them before.  
‘Of course there are. You have to have good people to have bad people else how do we know that the good people are good if we no of nothing else? Batman is good and Bruce, but that don’t make no sense.’  
‘Why can Batman be good but not Master Bruce sir? May I be so bold as to make a suggestion?’  
Blinking, Jason frowned and looked up at Alfred curiously, he was speaking about Batman and Bruce as if they were the same person. He stared at the bat shaped buttons on the coffee table.  
‘Master Jason, you gave Batman a chance did you not? Maybe, you could find it within yourself to give Master Bruce a chance also?’

Jason’s frown increased, Alfred had a point. Maybe Bruce didn’t beat his boys? Or was new to this? He had fallen asleep, Bruce could have woken him but instead put him to bed like fathers did in storybooks. The thought was bothersome but then, the concept of being with Bruce a little more on his terms was quite seductive in concept alone.  
Humming, Jason nodded and looked up at Alfred who offered him his scarf which had magically appeared in his hands.  
‘Now, how about I escort you to the library and you may breakfast in there Master Jason? I am sure you could find suitable literature to suit your tastes.’  
Taking the scarf, Jason rubbed the fluffy material across his cheek and felt his entire being shudder in relief. Huffing a breath, he looked back up at Alfred in wonder, not quite believing this labyrinth of rooms housed a library. Like yesterday, Alfred didn’t wait for a verbal response, instead he just took the boy’s hand and hoisted him up to his feet. Alfred’s hand was warm and oddly smooth for a man of labour rather than Bruce’s, that was oddly calloused for a man of leisure. Squeezing it, Jason smiled and allowed himself to be lead away. Next time Bruce wanted him, he’d be ready..

So Jason decided to give Bruce a chance. To find out for himself if Bruce was a bad man or good. Each night Jason had a shower, remembering that Bruce liked his boy’s clean, he then sat in his bed and waited. Waited for the footsteps to approach his room, to hear the door creaking open. Occasionally he’d venture out looking for Bruce only to find him gone and Alfred sending him back to bed with a hot chocolate saying that Bruce was out running again.  
Each morning, Jason woke up, untouched and alone. Each morning, he got himself dressed and raced downstairs to be greeted by Bruce at the kitchen table as if nothing was wrong. He even sent Jason to school, not Gotham High where no one care, but posh school. A huge risk in Jason eyes seeming that he could talk, but Bruce obviously trusted him. It didn’t make sense, if Bruce trusted him why did Bruce go out every night? Was he not good enough?  
‘I thought you’d be pleased to know that I am staying home tonight, Jay. What would you like to do? It would be nice to spend time together?’ Bruce announced when he got home from Wayne Enterprises and joined Jason at the kitchen table for dinner. ‘Mm did you and Alfred make this?’  
Watching Bruce put another slice of meatloaf in his mouth, Jason swallowed and nodded.  
‘Yes Bruce. It was fun.’ Looking down at his own meal, Jason felt the cold sliminess settle in his stomach and every mouthful he ate tasted like ash. Setting down his knife and folk he excused himself from the table and ran to the asylum of his room. If the last few days had taught him anything, it was that Bruce wasn’t going to beat him, so any punishment that came from running away he could deal with, he hoped.

As soon as Jason shut the door, he took a shower. He tried to remember how Bruce had washed him but the memory was a little faded now. Once done, he dressed himself in his pyjamas and sat on his bed with his scarf and buttons, and waited.  
Alfred popped his head around the door to wish him good night and Jason nodded with a a weak smile, blankets twisting in between his hands.  
‘Bruce?’  
‘Has retired to bed Master Jason, as should you.’ Alfred replied before closing door softly behind him. Jason settled down and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, fingers smoothing over his scarf in an attempt to calm himself. Hours ticked by and the bedroom was silent as death, the air heavy and foreboding.  
Jason lay there and listened.  
Bruce wasn’t coming.  
Groaning in frustration Jason beat his fists into the pillow and muffled a scream into its feathery depths. He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t wait any longer, it was driving him insane waiting night after night for Bruce to never come, like the monster in the closet you always waited for with bated breath only for the dawn to chase it away. Maybe Bruce was unsure of how this worked or maybe, maybe he was waiting for Jason to come to him! 

Gasping, Jason sat bolt upright and stared at the door. How had he not realised this before? Bruce was also lying there waiting for him! Alfred had already pointed out that Bruce didn’t beat his boys, so how was he able to let Jason know that he was disobeying? It was a slight not being there waiting right now. He knew better than this. Scrambling out of bed, Jason shoved his scarf and buttons under the pillow and took a deep shaky breath. He stripped himself methodically and folded them neatly on the bed.  
After a few days basking in the bliss of summer it was time for the darkness of winter, Jason closed his eyes and pretended himself to be Persephone. Brave, bold Persephone, taking her fate with grace as she took small yet determined steps down into the depths of the underworld.  
Jason knocked on the door and waited, the cool breeze in the hallway creeping up his back like the mist of the river Styx itself.  
‘Come in.’ Came a rough, gravelly drawl and Jason left.  
Jason left and in went a little boy with a blank stare and emotionless face.  
Bruce’s rooms were much like his own only larger. Walking through the expansive sitting room shrouded in shadow, he pushed open the door to the room Jason had avoided since arriving. 

Bruce’s bedroom too was cloaked in darkness, not even the moon shone through the thick curtains, granting Jason a merciful veil of shadow for just a few more moments.  
‘Jay? Is that you?’ Bruce asked, peeping open an eye to see a dark figure nod with a small hum and his own lips twitched upwards. Memories of nights like this spent with Dick flooded his mind as Bruce threw back his covers and tapped the mattress.  
‘Come on chum, you’re gonna catch your death out there.’  
He expected a small voice to protest that it wasn’t cold and make some jibe about privilege, for a hum of happiness or a jingle of buttons. Instead, the mattress dipped as the boy climbed in silently and covered himself with the blankets. Deciding to take a risk, Bruce opened his arms and blinked in surprise when Jason immediately fell into them, resting his head against his chest with a soft sigh. The boy seemed to enjoy the close contact and Bruce smiled to himself and settled back down to go back to sleep.  
Jason shifted and pecked his pectoral and Bruce frowned, his hands dropping down to Jason’s very, bare, back.  
‘Jay?’  
A small hand slipped beneath the waist band of Bruce’s pyjama bottoms.


	5. The Tempest

Everything went so fast. Too fast.  
One minute he was enjoying his first ever hug from Jason, and the next?  
Jason was bleeding, naked on the floor and he was pressed up against the headboard, staring down at him in horror.  
Jason whimpered but he didn’t cry.   
He just prodded at the bleeding gash before looking up at Bruce in confusion.  
That’s what hurt the most. It was that look. Confusion.   
Not hurt or fear or betrayal just, confusion. Jason didn’t understand what had just happened, not that it shouldn’t have happened to him. He thought it was okay for a grown man to throw him into a bedside table, his Jason, thought it was okay for a grown man to gain sexual pleasure from him. Bruce knew he should say something, just do something to tell Jason it was okay, but it were as if he were frozen in time. Sat staring in complete and utter horror. 

The door opened and just to make matters ten times worse, Alfred was stood blinking at the scene before him. His eyes snapped from Jason on the floor to Bruce, and his gaze burned.  
‘What the devil is going on in here Bruce? What the bloody hell have you done!’  
Bruce had never heard Alfred swear before and he swallowed thickly, trying hard to find words that just weren’t there. He had no idea what this even was himself.  
‘M-Mr W-Wayne doesn’t want me.’ A little voice whispered, the words tugging Bruce away from Alfred’s glare and off the bed. Gathering the boy in his arms, Bruce pulled a comforter off to cover Jason with a shake of his head.   
‘No, no I do want you Jay, I do. But not like that. Never like that. Christ!’ Bruce tried to reassure him, dabbing at the blood dripping down Jason’s face and for the first time, Jason saw Bruce cry.  
‘I’m sorry Jay. I’m so, so sorry.’  
A hand rested on his shoulder and Bruce looked up to see Alfred’s solemn expression, he seemed only just managing to stave off tears himself.  
‘Let me take him back to his room, Master Bruce.’ He coaxed softly, nodding slightly when Bruce relinquished his hold and Alfred held out his hand to the distraught boy. ‘Master Jason, come with me. That cut on your head must hurt, let me help, Master Jason.’  
‘M-Mr Wayne doesn’t want me.’ Jason mumbled, looking up at Alfred in bemused fear, he did what he was told and took the butler’s hand.   
‘No, I am afraid you are very much mistaken, sir.’ Alfred replied, supporting Jason’s weight he guided him slowly out of the room, pausing to glance back at a shell shocked Bruce. ‘Might I suggest returning to your bed, sir.’

Jason was oddly silent as Alfred stitched the cut on his forehead, he barely flinched, he just sat there, staring straight ahead. Finishing off his stitching, Alfred sat back a bit on his haunches and observed the boy closely, trying to understand what on earth was going on in the boy’s head. He would have a much greater success working out the fourth section of Kryptos.  
Without a word he lead the boy back to his bedroom and sat him down on the bed, Alfred noticed the pyjamas folded neatly on the bedspread.  
‘Come Master Jason, lets get you dressed and into bed.’  
A small breath left Jason’s lips as Alfred manoeuvred the clothing onto him. Whatever position Alfred moved a limb to, it just stayed in place.  
‘Master Jason? I really must insist that you come back now, sir.’ Alfred said, eyes scanning Jason’s face for any sign of life. ‘Come on lad, don’t let them win.’  
He felt like he was tucking a child sized doll into bed, fluffing the pillows and straightening the blankets for his own sake rather than Jason’s. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Alfred reached out and squeezed the boy’s hand.  
‘My feral child, what are we to do with you hmm?’   
Jason blinked and just slightly, Alfred felt a small squeeze in return.  
‘Sssh, you are alright Master Jason. You are safe. I am right here Master Jason.’  
‘Pequeña Ave.’ Jason whispered, closing his eyes tightly shut. 

 

‘Pequeña Ave?’ Alfred parroted before his eyes widened, there had been so little about Jason’s childhood written in his file. Despite the boy’s skin tone, he had worked under the assumption that he was white American, maybe with an Irish heritage due to the surname. ‘¿Hablas español?’  
Nodding, Jason squeezed Alfred’s hand tighter and the boy Alfred had begun to grow quite fond of, flickered back into deep blue eyes.  
‘Si, si.’ Jason mumbled, the relief in his voice was so heartbreaking Alfred had to look away to compose himself. ‘Mi mamá.’  
Alfred only spoke a little Spanish, but he knew enough to understand Jason’s broken sentence. He spoke Spanish because of his mother. Nodding, he shushed the boy again and moved to brush back his hair with a warm smile.  
‘¿Quieres una bebida?’ Alfred asked, noticing how dry the boy’s lips looked, but he just shook his head and closed his eyes with a small sigh, apparently enjoying having his hair stroked.   
‘Bruce?’  
Hushing him again, Alfred smiled as he watched the boy drift off, although it was probably only going to be a short reprieve.

Alfred stayed with Jason until his breathes evened out and he was confident that the boy would not be waking anytime soon. Gathering himself, he made his way back to his first little boy’s room with a heavy heart.  
Bruce managed to sit himself back on the bed but was now staring at the wall as if it held the answers he was seeking.  
‘Master Bruce? Forgive me, but I thought I left you with the specific instruction to go back to bed?’  
Pulling his eyes away from the wall, Bruce blinked back at him blankly.  
‘I did?’  
Sighing, Alfred made his way over and sat down next to him with a small smile. Bruce and Jason were very alike in some ways.  
‘I meant to lie down in it, sir.’  
‘Oh.’ Pausing, Bruce stared at the wall again before shaking his head. ‘Is he okay? Jason is he okay? I hurt him Alfred, God I, I hurt him.’  
Looking away, Alfred nodded slowly, eyes going from the bed to the bedside table that had been knocked askew.  
‘Forgive my boldness sir, but am I right in the assumption that Master Jason came to you in the state he was in? That he climbed into bed, you pushed him away and the boy fell?’

‘Yes, no.’ Scrubbing his hands down his face, Bruce looked back at the crumpled sheets and fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. ‘He- I swear I thought he just wanted a hug Alfred, like Dick did? I was falling asleep and he, he touched me and- and I threw him off, literally. I threw him into the table. I don’t understand.’  
Alfred sat and listened to Bruce’s anguish, a part of him not to sure if Bruce was more distressed by the actual event or that he didn’t understand it? Either way it was unnerving to see the boy who’d barely shed a tear when his parents were shot in front of him, cry. Bruce never cried.  
‘God he, Jay, he, he thought I’d brought him here for sex. He thought, and I- I never saw it Alfred. How could I not see it? He thought I wanted to hurt him.’  
‘Master Bruce, please, you are just human like everyone else.’  
‘Clark isn’t hu-‘  
‘Bruce, not the time. Settle down and listen.’ Alfred scolded, the omission of ‘master’ for the second time that evening causing Bruce to immediately shut up and glance away bashfully.  
‘Master Bruce, beating yourself up about deeds past is not how you are going to mend this. You cannot change your reaction to Master Jason’s advances and neither should you blame yourself for the actions of others.’

Blinking, Bruce frowned and looked over at Alfred in confusion only to receive a short and swift cuff behind the ear.  
‘That boy is traumatised, sir. You said yourself that his file bares no light into what has happened to him. His actions tonight have. Someone hurt that boy sir, may I suggest Batman starts looking amongst the Hispanic community?’  
The mention of Batman stirred something inside Bruce, and as if changing costume, the frightened, confused boy from years ago faded to a much darker persona.  
‘Hispanic? Why do you suggest I look there?’  
‘Pequeña Ave.’  
‘Little Bird?’ Bruce translated, brow furrowing in confusion.  
‘Master Jason speaks Spanish sir. That was what he uttered once he came back to us.’ Alfred explained, rising from his spot he looked back at the bedside table and moved to re-straighten it. ‘However you decide to investigate this, I urge you to take caution sir. Such matters require time and trust, tread too heavily and the boy will shut himself away for good. Talk to him, earn his trust, that is all I can advise.’

Jason woke groggy with a sore head the next morning and immediately wanted to die.  
Alfred had told him to give Bruce a chance to see if he was a good man, and he had. He had tested the water to discover that Bruce didn’t want to beat him. What he hadn’t prepared for, was to be proven wrong entirely. For Bruce to actually turn out to be a good man, like Batman was. Instead of taking advantage of the young boy laid out on a silver platter for him to consume, Bruce had tossed him away in horror. Bruce was disgusted by him, he didn’t want him anymore. Apparently Bruce did want some adopted young gentlemen, something Jason was not. Bruce wanted a wholesome, happy boy with a big smile, a flagship for true American ideology, not the local weirdo slut. Ever since he could remember people told him he was different, stupid, his mamá, the only person who ever smiled at him and let him play with the buttons in her seeing kit, uncaring that he ordered them instead of inventing a game. He had been too stupid back then to realise that the activity kept him quiet for a few hours, so she could get high in the bathroom. He had been stupid last night, jumping the gun and showing Bruce what he really was. Now he’d be sent back. Alfred was probably calling Anita right now. He’d found a man who didn’t want to fuck him and fucked it right up and now he’d go back there, to that place, to him.  
Shame, fear and embarrassment washed over Jason and the world constricted. It weighed on his chest and it were as if he was drowning. He gasped frantically for air, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t breathe. He clawed around him in desperation trying to find the invisible monster choking the life out of him. He was dying, he was sure if it and if he wasn’t frightened before, he sure as hell was now.

His hands were suddenly tugged down firmly and something soft and fluffy was wrapped around them.  
‘You are alright Master Jason.’  
Alfred!  
Safe.  
That was Alfred’s voice, he wouldn’t let him die. For one thing, he didn’t think Alfred would appreciate having to ditch a dead kid. His fingers brushed over the smooth fluff and his breath shuddered. Blinking, he looked down to see that his scarf was in his hands.  
‘That’s it Master Jason, take deep breaths.’  
Alfred’s face loomed into view and if Jason wasn’t dying, he’d have been shocked and concerned that he hadn’t felt Alfred getting on the bed with him. Firm hands rested on his shoulders and he watched Alfred’s chest rise and fall, trying his best to match his breathing.  
Slowly, ever so slowly, oxygen rushed into his lungs and Jason slumped back against the man holding him, at the moment, uncaring about anything other than breathing.  
Fingers brushed back his hair again and a pleased him escaped him as his eyes grew heavy again, he ran his own fingers over his scarf and hummed again.  
‘It’s over now Master Jason, all over.’ Alfred soothed, letting the boy rest against him, he carried on brushing back dark, thick curls with a heavy sigh. ‘Good boy.’

Jason’s eyes fluttered open and he turned to look up at Alfred warily, the shakiness inside him already building but this time, he has his scarf to hold.  
‘Are- sorry I ain’t, packed yet. Where, is my bag?’  
‘Packed? What in heavens for Master Jason?’  
Frowning, Jason shook his head and tried to curl up into a ball but Alfred was making it difficult.  
‘You’ve come to send me away.’  
‘Good Lord no. No Master Jason, this is your home sir.’  
‘But-‘  
‘But nothing young man. Master Bruce is deeply distressed by last night’s event as are you, but that does not erase who you are to him.’ Alfred explained, moving to stand up in his more characteristic position by the bed. The boy himself seemed to also be growing h comfortable with the level of physical contact.  
Jason worried his bottom lip and looked away, cheeks burning so brightly he thought they could replace the Batsignal.  
‘I don’t understand. I don’t understand you, Alfred, or Bruce. Nothing, nothing makes sense. It’s all wrong!’

Nodding, Alfred met his wandering eye with a look that seemed to look right through him, scan over his guts and settle just beneath his ribcage.   
Jason didn’t understand. He was sick and tired of never understanding and always being in the wrong.   
Growling, Jason felt it, the rage bubbling up like a witches brew, scalding as it made it way higher and higher. The room was too bright, too noisy, and the pyjamas that were once at least mildly comfortable, now scraped along his skin like sandpaper and the world exploded.   
‘No entiendo!’ Jason screeched, the shakiness tore at his insides and the world just wouldn’t stop, the rage kept coming and coming but there was no meaning to it. Throwing his covers away, Jason pounded his fists into his head, when Alfred made to pry them away he pushed him back and fled. Somehow, in the haze, he was in his living room and the coffee table went flying. It were like a firework show, when the main event started and it was just one explosion after another, again and again, over and over and showing now signs of stopping. But, everything does stop eventually, one way or another.   
Jason stopped from sheer exhaustion. Slamming his forehead into the wall, Jason let out a strained sob, fists balled at his sides as he bagged his head repeatedly. It helped, somehow.  
It dissolved the rage filled haze with a hush of stillness. 

Jason gasped a breath and blinked in confusion when the hard wall was replaced with a pillow. Glancing up, he saw Alfred smiling in that infuriatingly calm way, holding a pillow against the wall to prevent Jason from hurting himself anymore.  
Slumping to the ground, the pillow followed and Jason didn’t overly care as he carried on slamming his head into the wall. It reordered the tangles in his head, resetting everything to its usual neutral setting.  
‘I don’t understand.’ Jason whispered, finally stopping his head banging to weep into the pillow instead. A hand rested on the small of his back, rubbing firm, soothing circles, and Jason just didn’t understand.  
‘I know Master Jason, I know. You arrived here very quickly and with a very different view than that of Master Bruce. The rules are different here to before, aren’t they sir?’  
Nodding, Jason squeezed his eyes tightly shut and covered his ears, curling up in a ball and just wishing the world would stop. The hand continued to rub the circles into his back.  
‘Change is hard for the best of us to understand Master Jason. Sometimes, change can be good, given a little time and hope. Your sir, are considered a son to Master Bruce. No matter what road you have walked sir, you’re home is here.’  
Jason hiccuped and peered at Alfred through his knees.  
‘I pushed you? I didn’t mean to,‘m sorry.’  
Smiling, Alfred nodded and stood up again to offer the boy his hand.  
‘Apology accepted, sir. Now we have calmed down, how about you have some breakfast and I shall make a nest on the couch in the 2nd best living room? I do believe sir that a quite day watching cartoons is in order.’

‘Can I read?’ Jason asked, uncurling slightly he studied the hand in front of him.  
‘Of course, sir. Now, come along.’  
Jason reached to take his hand before pulling back with a hum.  
‘B-Bruce is mad at me.’  
Shaking his head, Alfred offered his hand again with a slightly lopsided smile.  
‘On the contrary sir. I do believe Master Bruce is mad with himself. He has been asking after your welfare all morning.’  
Jason didn’t quite believe that but he took Alfred’s hand anyway, letting him help put on his dressing gown and wrap his scarf around his neck.  
‘Are you gonna tell ‘im? About me pushing you?’  
Pausing, Alfred pursed his lips and glanced down at the terrified boy, who now seemed to have latched onto his hand like a lifeline.  
‘I don’t believe it necessary, unless you would like me to sir?’  
Shaking his head, Jason couldn’t imagine a circumstance where he would ever want Bruce to know about his ‘fits’ as Ma Gunn often called them, before locking him in the basement on his own.  
The man already probably thought he was a loony, why give him more ammunition to lock him in the wine cellar or whatever Wayne Manor had as a posh folks basement.

Bruce was sat in his usual place at the kitchen table when Jason entered, holding Alfred’s hand tightly. The man lifted his eyes to look at him before collecting his coffee and newspaper as if to leave. He sat back down again after one look off Alfred.  
‘Good morning, Jay.’ Bruce mumbled, shifting around uncomfortably he took a sip of coffee before clearing his throat. Jason frowned but let Alfred lead him to his chair and sat down. Bruce shuffled his chair away from him slightly.  
‘Is it the wine cellar?’ Jason asked, looking from Alfred to Bruce, who blinked but didn’t look at him.  
‘What do you mean Jay? Bruce asked, brow furrowing slightly and Jason huffed a frustrated breath.  
‘I don’t know what the posh folks word for basement is? Is it the wine cellar? I can go sit in there until you decide to forgive me?’   
Jason had thought that he was being thoughtful, thinking about others. He really did want to make amends for upsetting Bruce, but it didn’t work.  
Bruce looked more physically pained than he had before and just shook his head.  
‘Master Jason, we do not put children in the cellar here.’ Alfred chimed in, placing a plate full of chocolate chip pancakes in front of the bemused boy.

‘Oh.’ Jason said, opening his mouth to offer something else to make amends, some other form of punishment that wasn’t beating him or locking him up, but he came up with nothing. He assumed withholding meals was also off the ‘Bad Jason’ list.  
The meal carried on in a heavy silence. Jason spent more time prodding his pancakes with his fork than actually eating them, occasionally sliding a look over to Bruce, who seemed to be looking everywhere but at him. Anita told him that not looking at people was rude.  
Eventually, Bruce finished his own meal and just sat there for a moment before looking straight ahead.  
‘I think we need some boundaries, Jay. I think it would be best if you did not come to my room at night, a new rule.’  
Jason pushed away from the table and wandered off. That seemed a fair punishment he supposed.   
Bruce watched him leave and seemed to contemplate saying more before shaking his head and burying it in his hands.  
‘If your plan is to push the boy away then congratulations, sir.’ Alfred deadpanned, removing Jason’s barely touched plate with a sigh.  
‘What else was I meant to say? Jason clearly needs boundaries!’ Bruce defended, yet still hiding his face in his hands.   
‘Indeed sir, but was affirmation that you cared too hard to say?’  
‘He knows I care.’  
‘Does he sir?’

The rest of the day followed a similar theme. The tension and embarrassment was so thick in the air between the two it was almost visible. Whenever Jason entered a room, Bruce would stiffen and try to make very forced conversation that only ended in one word answers of Jason. If Bruce walked into where Jason was trying to hide, Jason didn’t even attempt to socialise, he just got up and walked out. In the end, the boy spent the rest of his day in the linen cupboard, smelling the aroma of dust and detergent, fingers running over the smooth cotton sheets on the shelves. He ended up eating in there because no matter what trick Alfred tried, he could not coax the boy to come out, even the promise of ice cream fell on death ears. Both of them needed time to process and workout a way forward from what had happened. All Alfred could do was close his eyes and pray that a new day would entail a fresh start.  
As Jason would probably have said, to be or not to be? That is the question.

The sun had just peeped over the horizon and Jason was up and about as per his usual routine, but Bruce had only actually gone to bed a few hours prior, when the front door opened.  
A pair of sneakers were kicked carelessly off to one side and a duffle bag dropped next to them, followed by a navy blue, woollen coat.  
‘Alfred? I’m home?’ Dick Grayson yelled, his voice bouncing off the walls of the entrance hall. Spotting the butler at the top of the grand staircase, he waved enthusiastically with a wide, boyish grin.‘Why the long face Alfred? Is Bruce in bed? Nah what am I saying of course he is. How’s everything been while I’ve been gone?’  
Blinking, Alfred inclined his head he made his way down to greet the prodigal grandchild with a firm handshake.  
‘Master Richard, welcome home. You look well sir and as always, your timing is impeccable.’


	6. Two Brothers

Sometimes a word or phrase would take up residence inside of Jason’s head.  
It would grow and feed off his attention like a very unwanted cuckoo. Not that there was anything wrong with cuckoos, Jason actually quite liked their song. However, it didn’t change the fact that sometimes, something just got caught up in his head and he couldn’t shake it.  
Sometimes it was a word or phrase someone said, but sometimes, it just manifested in there of its own accord. Jason had touched Bruce’s penis. All morning the word ‘penis’ had bounced around inside him trying to get out but Jason refused to let it escape, penis was a rude word.  
So he had pressed his lips tightly shut and just nodded or shook his head when he got dressed and went downstairs for breakfast and Alfred spoke to him. Alfred had looked concerned but he didn’t say anything. He just left saying that he must go and ‘attend to Master Bruce.’ Jason wasn’t sure what that meant, but he used his solitude to repeat the word penis over and over again under his breath.  
His focus so totally drained by it he didn’t hear the front door open or the approaching voices.

‘Master Richard may I introduce your new brother, Master Jason.’  
Sitting bolt upright, Jason gasped and stared at Alfred stood in the doorway with an older boy by his shoulder. The boy looked at him as if he were an oddity, like how Pandora stared at the box given to her by the gods, wondering what was inside but at the same time, afraid to open it.  
‘Penis!’   
The cuckoo finally was kicked out of his nest and Jason felt his cheeks warm.  
Dick blinked for a moment before shaking his head and pointing to his face.  
‘Um, most people call me Dick?’  
Jason nodded slowly and hummed before averting his gaze again.  
‘Dickface.’  
‘What?’   
Dick could not believe the audacity of this kid. Alfred said he’d had a difficult night but there was no need to be so rude! He couldn’t believe Alfred wasn’t telling him off? Dick would have been grounded for a week if he’d said something like that. 

Deciding to be the mature one, Dick studied the stitched up cut on Jason’s forehead and forced a smile.  
‘So erm, have we been in the wars Jason?’  
Jason frowned and shook his head, placing his knife and fork neatly on his plate, he finished his juice and set the empty glass next to it.  
‘There are no wars in Gotham? America is at war with other countries, but I am too young to be enlisted in the army to go fight in them. Bruce said I don’t have to sit in the wine cellar or basement, no one told me which was correct? Never mind, it’s okay now.’   
Pushing away from the table, Jason walked over and stood in front of Alfred and Dick expectantly.  
‘You’re in my way.’  
Nodding, Dick frowned and folded his arms.  
‘I’ve only just found out about Bruce adopting you? Don’t you want to sit and chat for a bit? Get to know one another?’  
Jason very visibly thought about this before shaking his head.  
‘No I don’t. I’m going now and you’re in my way.’

Stepping to one side, Dick watched his apparent brother wander off in the direction of the library.  
‘Erm, did Arkham have a bed shortage or something?’  
Alfred smiled a tired smile and shook his head.  
‘Arkham do indeed have a bed shortage at present, however my enquiry was in regards to myself.’  
Raising an eyebrow, Dick sat in the chair Jason had just vacated.  
‘It’s been that bad huh? Come on Alf, give me the brief! Why has Jason got a stitched up head and why is Bruce hiding in his room? He better not be replacing me as Robin!’  
There was a long silence and Dick began fiddling with the empty glass Jason had left.  
‘Jason is not Robin sir, and the last I heard, you had given up that name for the mantel of Nightwing.’ Alfred pointed out carefully, only for Dick to just huff and look away.  
‘That doesn’t mean Bruce can go dishing it out to a nutcase replacement.’  
‘Master Richard, you mind your tongue young man! Like it or not, Jason is your brother, not your replacement and he most certainly is not a ‘nutcase’ as you so elegantly put it. You may be angry at Bruce for neglecting to tell you and I understand that. However, I also recall you telling me on multiple occasions how much you longed for a sibling. Well, now you have one.’  
Thoroughly scolded, Dick pouted and slumped down in the chair. His gaze wondered to Jason’s empty plate and guilt began to pool in his stomach. He had always wanted to be a big brother, ever since he’d overheard his parents discussing having another baby before their deaths. Bruce not informing him, was not Jason’s fault and from the looks of it, the kid had far more to deal with than his parents dying.

‘I’m sorry.’ Dick mumbled, as Alfred moved to clear the table and he followed the butler with his eyes. ‘So, how did Jason hurt his head? If he isn’t Robin?’  
Alfred closed the dishwasher and turned to give Dick a very authoritative glare.  
‘That sir, is not information that I am free to discuss with you. May I suggest speaking with Master Bruce or asking Master Jason himself?’  
‘Jason? You’re kidding right? The kid just called me ‘Dickface’ of all things!’ Dick scoffed, still not understanding how he could have hit it off on such a wrong foot with him.  
‘Between you and I sir? I do believe that you may have misunderstood Master Jason. I do not believe that he intended to cause offence. Master Jason struggles socially sir.’  
Frowning, Dick looked back at the table and drummed his fingers on it thoughtfully.  
‘So what? He’s autistic or something?’  
‘His files do not state any diagnosis sir. May I remind you sir, to mind your manners.’  
Dick’s eyebrows shot up at that one and a smirk, just a couple of shades off mean, crept along his face.  
‘So Jason has a file huh?’  
‘From social services, yes, as sir, do you.’  
‘Sorry Alfred.’ Dick replied, eyeing up the kitchen door he figured he might as well go try and track the delinquent down.

Dick found Jason wandering along the hallway upstairs, he assumed the kid was making his way to wherever his bedroom was. Walking up behind him, Dick slung an arm around the boy’s shoulder.  
He wasn’t expecting the rugby tackle that landed him on his arse with the boy sitting on his chest.  
‘The hell Jason? It’s me? Dick? From downstairs?’ Dick said, scrabbling up to his feet he raised an eyebrow at Jason, who was now stood staring at him blankly.  
‘I don’t like hugs and I don’t like getting snuck up on.’ Jason replied, his fingers doing a series of repetitive taps against his leg. Nodding, Dick opened his palms and offered him his bestest, most charming smile.  
‘Let me start again. I’m Dick, I love hugs, but I don’t like getting snuck up in either, so sorry about that. What happened to your head, dude? Run into a wall?’  
‘No, it was a bedside table.’ Jason said with a confused hum, before turning and walking on.  
‘Um okay, why?’  
‘Bruce don’t think I’m pretty.’   
Dick opened his mouth to ask what Jason meant, when Bruce’s door flung open and the man himself was out in the hallway dressed in just boxer shorts.  
‘That is not what I said, Jay!’  
As if Bruce had flicked some sort of switch, Jason span on his heel and scowled at Bruce, fists clenched by his side.  
‘Oh so I am pretty?’  
‘ That’s not what I said either Jay!’ Bruce yelled back.  
‘So I’m not pretty?’  
‘No, that’s not what I meant! Urgh, go to your room Jay.’ Bruce instructed, watching the boy pout and flounce off down the hall. Glancing at Dick, he gave him a very tired, very pained look.  
‘I swear that boy has an emerging personality disorder.’  
‘Emerging like a butterfly, breaking free from its cocoon!’ Jason shot back, spinning back around to circle his arms like he was an actual butterfly coming out of its cocoon.  
‘Emerging?’ Dick asked, only for Bruce to sigh and shake his head.  
‘Trust me Dick, 18 can’t come soon enough.’  
‘For which of us Bruce? Is that why you don’t love me? Because he’s legal first!’  
‘Jay that is not what I meant. This is not- urgh, go to your room, now!’ Bruce barked, only just shy of Batman entering his voice.

Eyes flitting from his spiralling new brother to his equally spiralling parent, Dick swallowed and offered them both a placating smile.  
‘Woah, okay guys? Can we please find some chill? I’m feeling a little uncomfortable here.’  
‘What? In your pants?’ Jason shot back and up until this point, Dick hadn’t thought him capable of so many words.  
‘Jason enough!’  
‘Bite me!’  
‘Guys!’ Dick yelled above the hubbub, lifting his hands up in surrender. ‘Can someone please tell me what’s going on?’  
‘Ask him!’   
Bruce and Jason shouted, before both of them slammed their respective bedroom doors in unison.   
Dick just blinked, staring around the hallway in abject confusion. He noticed Alfred appear on the top of the stairs, probably to see what all the shouting was about.  
‘Alfred? Please can you just tell me what’s going on? Home used to be nice and cosy, but now I’m sad, and confused, and uncomfortable. Do you think the chandelier will still hold my weight?’

The butler smiled a warm smile and walked over to pat the young man on the shoulder in sympathy.  
‘Master Bruce is dealing with things like he always does.’  
‘Badly?’ Dick offered with a sly smile, but Alfred just looked at him.  
‘Master Jason however, I feel is in dire need of a big brother to talk to.’  
‘He calls me Dickface. I don’t think he likes me very much.’ Dick said, looking like a sad puppy who had been kicked out by its litter mates. Pursing his lips, Alfred nodded and looked over at Jason’s closed door.  
‘Master Jason just needs time to get to know you, to understand that you don’t mean to harm him. He won’t talk about his past but Master Richard, I do not believe there has been much love in it. When he first arrived here, his socks had almost fused to his feet.’  
‘He was a street kid?’ Dick asked, swallowing thickly when Alfred nodded and made his way back downstairs. He stared at Jason’s closed bedroom door thoughtfully for a few minutes before knocking on it lightly.  
‘Jason? It’s Dick?’  
There was no answer so he knocked again.  
‘Jason? Come on buddy, please?’ Dick called through the wood, rattling the handle he was surprised to see it open. So deciding to hell with it, he pushed open the door and peered inside.  
Jason’s sitting room was empty. Assuming his new brother must be sulking in his bedroom, Dick opened the door to that to find it too, oddly, empty. One of the windows however was open.  
Frowning, Dick crossed the room and peered out of it. There was no sign of his brother, but the shrub a few metres away from the window was smoking.  
‘The little shit!’

It was hardly a shock that it wasn’t the shrubbery partaking in a mid morning smoke but Jason. Walking over, Dick stood in front of him and tried his best to put on what he thought of as a ‘grown up’ face. Roy though was adamant that it just made him look constipated, but his friend was high at the time so Dick had chosen to ignore him.  
‘You need a shit, Dickface?’   
Folding his arms, Dick cocked his head to the side and smiled.  
‘Does Bruce know you smoke?’  
Shrugging, Jason took a long final drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out against a rock.  
‘Batman does. He says it’ll kill me.’  
Dick wasn’t sure what to say to that. The way Alfred had explained to him that Jason wasn’t Robin hinted that the boy didn’t know, but what Jason had just said suggested otherwise.  
‘Well, it will kill you, dufuss. How long you been smoking for?’  
‘I don’t know.’ Jason replied honestly, shoving his hands in his pockets, he stared at his sneakers. ‘Ima not very good at talking to folks.’  
‘Yeah, I had noticed.’ Dick chuckled, hoping that Jason would get the joke, but he didn’t. He just sucked in his bottom lip and closed his eyes tightly shut.  
‘You think I’m a weirdo. Everyone thinks I’m a weirdo. Alfred doesn’t think I’m a weirdo, or Bruce.’ Jason mumbled, and Dick was pretty sure his heart just broke. If he didn’t feel shitty about the Arkham jibe before, he sure did now.  
‘I don’t think you’re a weirdo.’

Kicking the little stones around his feet, Dick watched Jason flinch and scowl at him.  
‘Don’t do that Dickface.’  
The name still irked him, but Dick rolled with it, he motioned further up the path.  
‘I um, I struggle to keep my feet still Jason so, can, can we walk or something?’  
This seemed to spark Jason’s interest and finally, Jason looked at him, if only briefly.  
‘Why?’  
Smiling, Dick thought he might have found away of gaining Jason’s attention and just shrugged.  
‘My legs get jumpy sometimes, I have to move.’  
‘That’s weird.’   
A genuine chuckle escaped his lips and Dick shook his head in amusement.  
‘Right, so you don’t like being called weird but it’s okay to call me weird, Jason?’  
Scrambling up to his feet, Jason brushed the dirt from his jeans, his brow furrowing in thought.  
‘But you are weird?’  
‘Like you.’ Dick finished off for him with a wry smile, before taking the initiative and walking off down the path. ‘So, you explored much of the gardens yet? Have you found the tree house?’

Jason blinked after Dick for a moment, trying to catch up with the sudden change in conversation before giving up and jogging after him.  
‘You talk too fast and too much. How can you stand it?’  
Shrugging, Dick shot him a look over his shoulder and grinned.  
‘I’m chatty. It’s part of my charm.’  
‘It’s not charming.’  
‘Sure it is. So, have so found the treehouse yet?’  
Shaking his head, Jason shoved his hands back in his pockets and trudged behind the deranged boy that spoke too many words. Now, Jason liked words, he loved the bizarre concept of them, how the sounds all came together to make a collective meaning. Dickface though, he was like eating too much candy, the onslaught of words left Jason feeling dizzy and rather nauseous. He kept following though, eyes scanning the gardens in wonder. He was yet to venture outside properly, but to have so much green right on his doorstep?  
It was far too good to be true. As always, Jason found himself wondering if he’d developed hypothermia and this was all some very vivid hallucination before his inevitable death.   
A large tree stood out from the others and Jason couldn’t help but stare at it. There, nestled in the branches was a little house.  
‘A Wendy House!’ He muttered in awe.

Frowning, Dick shook his head with a chuckle and punched him lightly on the shoulder.  
‘No, it’s a treehouse Jason, what’s a Wendy House?’  
Jason looked over at Dick as if he were an idiot, before smiling dreamily at the little wooden house.  
‘Tootles shot down Wendy Darling from the sky. Once it was clear she was not dead, Peter had the lost boy’s build a house around Wendy. A Wendy House. That’s a Wendy House.’ He explained with a very firm nod. Despite saying that he wasn’t weird, Dick looked at him as if he was, before swinging up onto a branch and climbing towards the house.   
Yet again Dick chatted away at a million miles an hour, it was impossible to keep up and some of the things Jason did pick out just sounded strange to him. Shaking his head, he eyed up a branch warily, he’d never climbed a tree before. He was about to turn around and call the whole thing off when the memory of running across rooftops hit him. Looking back at the tree, Jason wondered if maybe it was like climbing a building? He could do that.  
‘What’s up, Jason? Never climbed a tree before or something?’   
Scowling, Jason swung up onto the first branch, deciding to ignore the jibe he assessed the rest of the tree for a path up to where Dick was.   
‘Trees and buildings are different. Buildings are taller than trees, but trees have easier paths, except if there’s a fire escape, it’s easier to climb a fire escape. That’s what they are built for. A fire escape that was difficult to navigate would be dumb.’

Scrabbling up onto the decking, Jason looked back at the Manor, it looked rather pretty in the sunlight. There were less shadows from this angle and somehow, the secrets weren’t as visible. Up here, with Dick, the shroud of his own secrets changed from a thick, heavy velvet to a thin, floaty fabric that Jason could almost believe he could let go of and watch it blow away on the wind. Smiling slightly he looked over at Dick, who was apparently standing upside down, giggling a little Jason shook his head in amusement.  
‘You’re weird Dickface.’  
‘I thought we’d already agreed on that Jason?’ Dick replied, tipping himself he right way up he slumped down to sit on the floor. Jason shifted his weight on the balls of his feet, he had an inkling that he should be doing something, but wasn’t entirely sure what.  
‘Jay. Jason is when I’m in trouble. This Wendy House is kinda cool.’  
Nodding, Dick smiled that bright smile again and tapped the spot next to him.  
‘Oh! Yeah, sure, Jay. This place is awesome. Alfred helped me build it and Bruce isn’t allowed up here. Sit down man, you’re wearing a hole in the floor.’

This sparked Jason’s interest.   
Eyebrows disappearing into his hairline, he rushed to sit down next to the older boy.  
‘Y’messin’? Bruce ain’t allowed up here?’ Jason gasped, eyes widening further when Dick tapped a sign above his head. There, painted on a piece of wood in a child’s scrawl were the words:  
‘Brus not alowed’.   
Apparently English hadn’t been a younger Dick’s strong point, but the message it gave was something Jason couldn’t quite believe.  
‘And- and he lets ya? Go up here? And- and he’s not allowed to come up? Bruce ain’t mad about it?’ Jason asked, trying so hard to find the loophole, the little crack where Bruce could weasel in and find out what was happening in the Wendy House. Never had he ever heard of a place that adults were banned from!  
Shrugging, Dick leant back and looked over at Jason lazily.  
‘Why would he be mad Jay? I need chill time! Bruce is full on, you know what I mean? Actually, no, probably not yet, but you will. Alfred only comes here to bring snacks and lemonade or hot chocolate. He says he’s too old to climb trees. Ha!’  
Shaking his head, Jason hummed and tapped his fingers on his thighs, closing his eyes he tried to process what he’d been told. It didn’t seem real. 

A hand rested on his, and Jason snatched it quickly away with a gasp and blinked back at Dick who seemed, concerned? At least, Jason thought that was concern?  
‘You can use the tree house too, Jay. It’s mine and yours now.’  
‘Really?’ Jason knew he sounded pathetic, knew that tears were welling in his eyes but he could do nothing to stop them. Rubbing at his Judas eyes, he tried to give Dick a smile of gratitude but it seemed feeble in comparison to the one on Dick’s face.  
‘Really, Really! Your my brother now Jay and if you’d let me? I’d like to be your friend too?’   
Jason shook his head and stared at his sneakers, pressing his hands over his ears, an odd feeling bubbling in his stomach that he was starting to realise was excitement.  
‘I don’t know much ‘bout brothers or friends. Not had either, but I read about ‘em. John and Micheal are brothers but my teddy belongs to Ma Gunn, so I had leave it. Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn are friends.’  
Dick nodded along with a slightly confused frown before giving up and sticking out his hand.  
‘Erm sure, so we friends then Jay?’  
Jason cocked his head at the hand before nodding slowly, a smile tugging at his lips.  
‘We’re friends now Dickface.’

That settled, Dick withdrew the hand Jason had abjectly ignored and the pair settled down to watch the birds in the neighbouring tree.   
Dick knew a lot about birds apparently.  
Jason listened intently to what each one was and how to spot them, he occasionally informed his new friend of books that a particular bird appeared in.  
‘You like birds Dickface?’ Jason whispered, cheek pressed up close against Dick’s as they watched a robin hop about on the ground below. A dreamy look washed over Dick’s face and he nodded with a wishful sigh.  
‘Oh yeah, I love birds.’  
‘Why?’  
‘Because they fly. Just watch them fly Little Wing, it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen and my heart soars with them every time. I’ll teach you how to fly one day.’ Dick explained, but Jason just screwed up his face. He couldn’t work out how exactly Dick’s heart could soar anywhere? Wouldn’t he die? People couldn’t fly either. What quickly distracted him though, was the new name.  
‘Little Wing’s not my name.’  
‘Dickface isn’t mine either, Little Wing.’ Dick shot back and Jason nodded. He wasn’t stupid, Jason knew somehow that argument made sense he just couldn’t quite work out why.  
‘Hmm, okay.’

‘Masters Richard and Jason? Would the young sirs care for some refreshment?’  
Gasping, Jason almost fell out of the treehouse when he leant over to see Alfred standing there with a tray of cookies and a thermos flask, which was probably hot chocolate.  
Waving, Jason burst out laughing when Dick had to grab hold of his waistband to stop him falling.  
‘Hey Alfie! Dickface is my friend and my brother. He said so, so he can’t take it back!’ Jason yelled down at the butler, grinning from ear to ear.  
Chuckling, Alfred nodded and peered up at the boys .  
‘That is very pleasing news Master Jason, congratulations! Master Richard? Would you care to relieve me of this tray before I return to the Manor and leave you out here to be eaten by wolves!’  
There was a sharp inhale and Alfred glanced up, only to smile at Dick patting Jason on the shoulder and climbing down.  
‘Don’t worry Little Wing, Alfred’s joking. Anyway, you don’t have to worry about wolves, I’ll protect you.’  
‘Really?’  
‘Always!’ Dick replied, smiling up at Jason through the branches. ‘Now don’t fall out while I get your cookies.’  
Jason nodded and made a point of sitting back inside after waving good bye to Alfred.   
Alfred waved back and smiled warmly when Dick made it down to collect their refreshments.  
‘I see we may have been mistaken regarding Master Jason? You two have been out here for hours sir, Master Bruce was becoming concerned.’  
‘Nah, he wasn’t. The big man is still hiding in his room and you are just nosey, Alfred.’ Dick replied with a look on innocence as he collected their supplies. 

Jason was sat staring out at the scenery around him again when Dick finally made it back up with their supplies. Gasping when he finally spotted his new friend, Jason dashed over and helped to bring the cookies and hot chocolate into the centre of the tree house. Sitting back on his haunches, Jason waited to be told that he could have some.  
‘You back chatted Alfred!’ Jason said, watching Dick grab a cookie and take a huge bite with a mischievous chuckle.  
‘Ha ha, just wait until you settle in Jay. I think you’ll be out back chatting me in no time!’ Dick assured him with a knowing smile and Jason couldn’t help but laugh along. Dick wasn’t wrong. Back before he’d been brought here, he’d mouthed off to Batman for Gods sake!  
‘Like hell I’m back chatting Alfred! He’ll destroy me! I guess I’m already halfway there with Bruce though.’ Jason trailed off, the sparkle in his eyes flickering out like a dying candle.   
Swallowing a mouthful of cookie, Dick picked up another one but this time he pressed the snack into Jason’s hand.  
‘Yeah, so I heard. What’s the deal with you and Bruce hmm?’ Pausing, Dick pursed his lips and caught Jason’s ever wandering eye, trying to convey how much he cared, but the kid just stared blankly back.   
It was odd, how when Jason finally made eye contact for more than a few seconds, how intense it was, but Dick refused to look away. ‘What happened to you Little Wing?’

Jason swallowed, staring at Dick’s eyeballs felt wrong so he looked away and prodded at the stitches in his head. It was so tempting, the way Dick just sat there, it seemed so easy to just spill his guts. To open up and let the older boy see the putrid, rancid mess inside.  
Let him know the things he had done, to add names to the faces that dwelled inside his head.   
Jason saw how the words would spill from his lips like a trickling brook.  
How Dick sat and listened, there was no judgement, he just smiled that smile of his and told him it was going to be okay. Batman would most definitely be on the warpath come nightfall and everything truly would be okay, because Dick said he’d protect him.   
Taking a deep breath, Jason opened his mouth but the words died on his tongue, it was too easy in the end. That was the problem, Jason wasn’t dumb.   
His world was normal but deep down he knew, he knew that his normal was different to other boys, he was different. Life didn’t work out the way it did in books, there were no happy endings, not really. That was like believing in fairies.   
If he magically found the words, he’d sit and watch shock and disgust pollute Dick’s bright smile. He’d watch his first friend, shake his head and leave him forever. Yes, Dick said he’d protect him, but that was from Alfred’s pretend wolves, not the real monsters that did exist. It was a bargain he wasn’t prepared to make, above all, Jason wanted to keep his friend.

‘I-I, um, I dunno what Bruce wants me for?’ Jason mumbled, a tear escaping and rolling down his cheek. The agony of swallowing the words he’d wanted to say almost too much to bear.  
Cocking his head thoughtfully, Dick scooted forwards.  
‘What do you mean Little Wing?’  
Screwing up his face, Jason shook his head and gestured towards himself wildly.  
‘Why am I here? What does Bruce want me for? Why are you here? I don’t- I thought I knew but I was wrong. There’s no other use for me!’  
‘Huh, why? What are you useful for Jay? What did you get the wrong idea about?’  
The questions were jarring and folded on top of each other like an elaborate piece of origami.  
Shaking his head again, Jason slammed his fist into his forehead and growled in frustration.  
‘That don’t matter. Past is past. I dunno what to do now Dickface! What does Bruce want from me?’  
Frowning, Dick pursed his lips, dropping his gaze to study his feet pensively.  
‘I don’t know what you’re referencing Jay, but let me just tell you this okay? Bruce just wants you.’  
‘But what does that mean?’ Jason stressed, opening out his palms in the sheer definition of confused, he seemed to spiralling rapidly towards a complete breakdown. ‘What the fuck does that even mean!’

‘You, Jay? Bruce wants you um, as a son and friend, like I’m your brother and friend?’ Dick attempted to explain, but Jason just shook his head violently and hummed.  
‘Like, like your presence yeah? Bruce just wants your presence. For you to be just be there, being who you are. That’s all.’  
‘That’s all? For me to just be there?’ Jason repeated, blinking up at him owlishly.  
Smiling, Dick nodded and poured them both a cup of hot chocolate.  
‘That’s all, Little Wing, that’s all.’


	7. Le Petit Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not 100% about this chapter but I admitted defeat and posted it.

As was typical for the season, the sun was starting to set earlier in the evening ready for the winter months. The dwindling light cast eery shadows and in the distance, Wayne Manor appeared like a shadow all of its own.  
Bruce tightened his grip on the steering wheel and sighed, he was just so tired. It wasn’t the usual suspect of vigilante work and Wayne Enterprises, oh no, those were the simple, blissful days.  
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been a father before. Jason had somehow redefined it though.  
Bruce had thought looking after a hyperactive Dick Grayson who never shut up, who he had to forcibly remove from the chandelier was hard work, but now he was coming to realise that his Dick was the novice edition. It wasn’t that he regretted adopting Jason, the boy unbelievably clever and had such a kind, selfless heart, and a laugh that danced around in Bruce’s head for days.  
Bruce genuinely enjoyed waking up and wondering what would come out of the boy’s mouth next, the way his mind worked was phenomenal but then that was also what made him so tired.  
Jason wasn’t like Dick, in fact he was unlike any child Bruce had ever known. He just couldn’t understand how Jason ticked at all.

Pulling up in the garage, Bruce suppressed a groan when he spotted a familiar little boy, standing patiently by the door waiting for him to arrive home. This was a new development and one that baffled Bruce entirely. The angry, awkward avoidance after the bedroom incident was gone, for the last week, Jason had been his own personal shadow whenever he was home. Bruce had even been followed to the bathroom for crying out loud and he only link he had as to the reason for this behaviour was Dick. Dick who was yet to return to the Titans. Whilst Bruce was working during the day, Jason spent his time with Dick, his eldest even willingly took his new brother to school without complaint. Dick seemed to be able to communicate with Jason far better than he could, which had its pros and cons.  
Bruce smiled at the memory of Jason being persuaded to enter the sunroom, he sat next to Dick to show him his buttons. Bruce was pretty sure Dick thought Jason was tapped, but he still smiled and played along with buttons being awesome.  
‘Bruce? Why are you sat in the car still?’  
Blinking, Bruce looked up to see Jason stood by his car door with a very concerned expression on his face.  
‘You are one hour and fourteen minutes late.’

Nodding, Bruce sighed and opened the car door. Climbing out, he ruffled Jason’s hair affectionately and gave the boy his briefcase to carry. Just like the buttons and the fluffy scarf, for reasons only truly known to Jason, taking Bruce’s briefcase inside and placing it in the study was very important.  
‘Jay, son, please tell me you haven’t been stood here for an hour and fourteen minutes?’  
‘I haven’t been stood here for an hour and fourteen minutes.’ Jason parroted with a grin, turning on his heel he slipped off to the study, briefcase held tightly in his hands.  
Sighing, Bruce shook his head and allowed himself a small smile, the kid really was starting to grow on him and for Jason not to have been waiting for him? Progress!

Mood lifting, Bruce opened the door and sauntered into the kitchen.  
‘Using the commoners entrance today are we sir?’ Alfred greeted from the stove with a mischievous glint in his eyes. ‘I am assuming Master Jason is transporting your briefcase to the study?’  
Nodding, Bruce unbuttoned his overcoat and hung it over the back of the chair, rolling his eyes at Dick, who was sat on the island thinking Alfred hadn’t spotted him sneaking Twinkies.  
‘Hmm, yes. He told me he hadn’t been stood in the garage waiting, which is the most progress I’ve had with him so far.’  
Snorting, Dick popped an entire Twinkie in his mouth and wiped his hands on his jeans. Frowning, Bruce turned to his eldest and folded his arms.  
‘Something amusing Dick?’  
Apparently deciding not to irk Alfred more than he already was, Dick swallowed his mouthful before speaking.  
‘Yeah. For the World’s Greatest Detective you sure are gullible! Jay has been stood in that garage since five to six!’  
All sense of achievement fizzled out and Bruce felt his shoulders physically slump. Apparently no progress had been made at all and to top it off, Jason had apparently lied to him.  
‘Aw, quit the sour puss look, Bruce! You asked Jay to say he hadn’t been waiting so that’s what he did? It’s hardly lying. Not that Jay can lie anyway, even if he thinks he can, I can see right through him, the moron!’ Dick cackled, finding the entire thing rather amusing as he unwrapped another Twinkie.

‘Master Richard! Do not call your brother a moron, and cease from ruining the dinner Master Jason and I have worked hard to prepare with your sugary junk food.’ Alfred scolded without even looking up from his cooking.  
‘Sorry.’ Dick mumbled around a mouthful of Twinkie, bending down between his legs he returned the packet to the ‘treat’ cupboard. Glancing up at Bruce’s shell shocked expression, Dick straightened up and shrugged.  
‘Look Bruce, I’m going to give you some advice, I know you won’t listen to it, but humour me?’ Dick began, legs swinging as he spoke. ‘I know he’s got some big secret or something from his past you want to know about and before you bust a vessel, I’ve given up even trying to figure you two out. It’s just, have you thought about maybe just accepting that Jay is special little snowflake? Stopping all this stupid progress nonsense might actually convince the idiot that you actually care about him and he’s not some pet project or something.’  
Bruce scowled and sat down at the kitchen table. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he was pretty sure he could feel another headache coming on. Dick had no idea what was going on. Batman had been trawling through the Hispanic community for weeks but no one had heard of a Jason Todd or even Catherine. Jason’s behaviour that night raised so many red flags and Bruce wasn’t just desperate, he was worried.  
He needed to find out his boy’s past in order to help him. To give him justice, isn’t that why Jason had been so talkative with Batman? He’d wanted to be Robin.

‘Alfred, I am working late tonight, please accept my apologies for missing dinner.’ Bruce said, before moving to make his way to the Cave to try and do some more digging. Alfred shot the man a very unamused look, but experience dictated that pushing the subject of eating would fall on death ears, so instead his response was to just turn back to the stove with indifference. Dick however, scowled and hopped down from the island to stand in Bruce’s way.  
‘Are you being freaking serious? This is why I left Bruce! There’s such a thing as having a private life, secrets. You can’t just go poking around in Jason’s business, treating him like some cold case of yours. He has a right to privacy.’  
‘Some things can’t be kept private.’ Bruce countered, giving his son not the Batglare, but a look so ice cold it made the teenager shudder beneath it. ‘If you dislike me so much Dick then why are you still here? Don’t the Titans need you? You can’t just abandon your teammates because you want to play house with Jason. It’s called responsibility, I suggest you look it up in the dictionary.’  
There was a long, pregnant silence.  
Dick’s expression darkened.

Slamming his fist into the wall, Dick roared in pure, unadulterated rage. The emotion flowed from every pore, leaving those in his wake to quake from the sheer ferocity of it. That was the problem with Dick, energy forced him to be a constant bouncing ball but when anger took him, that energy turned into fireworks.  
‘You just never fucking change! What? I’ve seen through the bullshit so now you have a younger kid instead? One so fucking traumatised he don’t know the fucking day. But that doesn’t matter because he’s yet another pawn for your pathetic vengeance kick. How long Bruce? How long until you have him out there? Fighting for you, huh? I’m telling you now, the moment Jason puts on MY costume, you’ll steal the last scrap of innocence that kid has left. We all know that’s how this ends. Jason thinks he’s here to serve you and y’know what? He ain’t far from the fucking truth!’  
Bruce watched in stony silence as Dick sent the kitchen table flying, screaming at the top of his lungs about the injustice of it all. Bruce stood and dutifully took the right hook that Dick thought he deserved and if he was honest, he probably did. He’d let Jason touch him.  
Bruce watched with a heavy heart as Alfred leaped into action and pinned his charge against the wall, but his feet refused to move to allow him to help.  
‘Bruce, you are a target. Leave. Now!’ Alfred ordered, giving the man a look that could almost be described as disgust before turning back to Dick, who was still raging. Swallowing thickly, Bruce nodded and did as bidden, knowing that this would be the last he’d see of his eldest for a while.  
He didn’t go to the Cave, instead he went to his study and closed the door, only in secrecy, allowing the tears to fall.  
‘I’m sorry Dick.’ Bruce whispered to the deaf silence.

Dick was not calming down. Even with the source of his anger gone, the hurt still remained.He pressed against Alfred to try and regain his freedom but the butler refused to relinquish his hold.  
‘Master Richard, I understand that Master Bruce has upset you but this behaviour is not acceptable. I request that you go to your room to refocus.’ Alfred said firmly, giving Dick a calm but authoritative look as he relinquished his hold.  
Blinking back tears, Dick rubbed his eyes on the back of his hand before storming out of the kitchen.  
‘I gotta go. Sorry Alfred, but I’m not going to make dinner.’  
‘But Master Jason made pudding especially for you? Please sir, at least stay to say a proper fair well to the boy?’ Alfred implored, noticing that although the rage had passed, the energy in his veins still hummed with anger. Pushing away from the wall, Dick cast one last look over his shoulder at Alfred before storming out.  
The thundering slam of the door his only reply.

Dick couldn’t stomp down the hall towards the servant’s stairs to get to his room. Adrenaline battered his system like a tsunami, causing his limbs to tremble uncontrollably with the urge to fight or flee. He wasn’t going to calm down. Not here. Not in this house with the fucking Batman.  
No.  
Dick needed to get out.  
Get out, drag Roy out from whatever hole he was in and go to the nearest bar to drown his sorrows. Roy was always up for a ‘my adoptive father is a bastard’ moaning session.  
A plan slowly forming in his head, Dick strode up the narrow passage way only to trip over something soft but heavy. That really didn’t help his efforts to calm down, the throbbing in his jaw only served to fuel the buzzing in his veins further. Growling he span around to kick whatever the offending object was down the stupid stairs only for his foot to freeze midair.  
Jason was sat on the step, staring at him with his usual blank expression.  
‘Little Wing?’  
Nodding, Jason swallowed and looked back down the stairs.

Dick’s anger fizzled down and he watched his brother suck on his bottom lip with a very sinking feeling. Looking down he spotted Jason’s fluffy scarf clutched tightly in his hands.  
‘You heard that. Didn’t you?’  
Nodding, Jason squeezed his scarf tighter still and there was a crinkling sound that suggested that the bag of buttons was somewhere in there too.  
‘Did you-‘  
Despite not finishing his sentence, Jason seemed to understand the unfinished question, ‘Did you hear us mention Robin?’ and nodded again.  
Apparently speaking wasn’t a thing Jason was up for doing right now.  
He wasn’t surprised, Dick had made a firm guess that there had been a lot of shouting in his brother’s life. Pursing his lips, Dick tried to control the frustration at his brothers continued silence and sighed heavily.  
‘Look, you weren’t meant to hear that okay? This, this is just bad blood between Bruce and I, from before you came along. Please, just, Little Wing, please don’t think that I don’t want you. I do, so much. I just can’t be here, with him, not anymore.’ Pausing, Dick looked down at Jason who had curled up with his face smushed into the scarf and a small smile tugged at his lips.  
Somehow, this moron could calm his anger more than anyone else ever had. 

Crouching down, he reached out to stroke the soft material too. The feeling was oddly soothing and his breath shuddered in response, the energy died down so much, Dick could almost describe himself as truly calm for the first time in his life. Maybe Jason was onto something with the whole fluffy scarf thing?  
There was a muffled gasp and suddenly a pair of eyes were peeping through the fluff at him and Dick’s smile grew.  
‘I’ll always be your brother Jay, always be your friend, even if I am far away. Even in space.’  
Jason lifted his head with a confused frown and Dick just knew that he was trying to figure out if Dick was going on a trip to the moon or something. Chuckling at his brother’s literal idiocy, Dick cocked his head and reached into his pocket to retrieve a pen. Without a word he scribbled his phone number on the back of Jason’s hand who squealed and tried to pull away.  
‘This is my phone number, Jay. Call me, anytime, about anything. Bruce is going to have to give you the low down but, I’m going back to the Titans, my friends, in Manhattan so not quite as far away as space.’  
This earned a small smile from the boy and Dick ruffled his hair before getting back up to his feet.  
‘See you soon yeah? Be good Little Wing.’ 

Dick didn’t look back when he left Jason sat on the stairs and made his way to his room to pack his things. He may be calmer now, but the argument was still there and Bruce was still Bruce. If he stayed, there would only be another fall out and the last thing Jason needed was to live in a war zone. He was just finishing rolling his socks up and shoving them in the corners of the bag when he heard a familiar hum. Sighing, Dick closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.  
‘Jay, Little Wing, buddy please, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.’  
There was another hum and Dick turned to see Jason stood in the doorway with a frustrated look on his face. Zipping up his bag, Dick shook his head and walked up to his brother and crouched down to face him.  
‘Bye buddy. You keep on being weird ‘cause that’s awesome okay?’  
Shaking his head, Jason looked like he was about to burst into tears and for a moment it looked like he wanted to say something before another hum came out. Smiling, Dick patted his shoulder and straightened up.  
‘Yeah, I’m going to miss you too.’  
Jason shook his head violently, scarf now fisted tightly in his hands but Dick just ruffled his hair and walked away.

Jason watched Dick walk away and he wanted to scream. The words were in his head but every time he tried to say them, they just came out in what sounded like a hum. Why was this so hard? Dick wasn’t the only one who could get angry.  
The front door slammed and Jason howled, slamming his fists against Dick’s bedroom wall over and over again as hot tears slid down his face.  
‘D-dd-on’t leave mm-mmm-me, h-here a-aa-alone.’ He sobbed, sinking to the carpet his fists still pounding at the wall as he cried. The words he’d wanted to say finally leaving his lips but it was too late, Dick had already left him.  
‘Dickie.’ Jason whispered through his tears, over and over again. He didn’t hear the approaching footsteps. He didn’t know anyone else was there until a soft, heavy comforter was wrapped around his shoulders.  
‘I know Master Jason, I know. Hush now.’ Alfred soothed, kneeling down he tugged the boy away from the wall and against him. Jason shouted and struggled but gave up moments later and just sobbed into the blanket.  
‘Dickie. Dickie.’  
The word bounced around his head, overshadowing his every other thought, emotion, everything. Dick had left him. It was his fault, because he wasn’t good enough to be Robin.  
‘Dickie.’  
‘Sssh, Master Jason, sssh. It’s going to be alright. Master Dick shall come back soon.’ Alfred soothed, waiting patiently for the tears to subside. ‘I’m afraid Master Jason that our evening meal is quite ruined. What would the young sir’s opinion be on pizza?’  
Nodding, Jason looked up and offered Alfred a weak smile.

The rest of the evening was a solemn affair. Jason came back downstairs to eat pizza with Alfred in the kitchen, before feigning tiredness and escaping to his own living room. Dick very rarely came into his rooms so there was less of a reminder that he was alone, again. The problem was that Jason was no where near tired. Bruce was still gone, wherever ‘gone’ was. The television proved too noisy and too bright and flashy no matter which channel he changed it to. Turning the damn thing off, Jason chucked the remote onto the repaired coffee table with a sigh. If Dick were here he’d know what to do. Dick always had good ideas, even if he had a lot of infuriatingly stupid ideas as well. Dick had left him though. He wasn’t good enough.  
Shaking his head, Jason sucked in a breath to stave off tears and looked at his one singular book on his bookshelf. Dick said he could take books out of the big library to read, that it wasn’t like Gotham Library where you needed a card. Screwing up his face, he decided that maybe he should go have a poke around and see which books he could borrow to fill his bookshelf. Bruce and Dick were gone and Alfred had already cleaned the library, so the likelihood of having to actually talk to anyone was pretty slim.

Decision made, Jason collected his scarf and his buttons and headed off on his book shaped mission. Everything was okay with the world when there were books involved. The library was Jason’s favourite room. It was hardly surprising. A room entirely dedicated to reading and words was hardly going to be Jason least favourite place. He especially liked one of the leather couches next to the fire place. It was his favourite seat in the whole Manor and Jason had become very possessive regarding ‘his spot’. Dick had given up arguing the point entirely and had just sighed dramatically before flopping to the floor. Frowning at the memory, Jason shook his head and began scanning the books on the shelves. He didn’t want to think about Dick. Dick was gone and now he had to choose books, choosing books was hard.  
A section of books caught his attention.  
The books were all written in different languages.  
Wandering over, he traced his fingers along the titles. Some were in Spanish and he smiled when those books came up, others he had no idea what the language even was, so he moved in with the promise that he would learn to read them. He would.

His fingers paused over a waxed paper that seemed to have yellowed with age.  
Pulling it out, Jason’s eyes widened at the picture on the front.  
It was of a little boy, in what looked like, green pyjamas and blonde hair. The boy looked nothing like him, but where he was standing portrayed exactly how Jason felt most days.  
The little boy was stood alone on a little planet, far away from anyone else.  
Gasping, Jason’s eyes shot to the title, it was in French. Jason was nowhere near fluent and he struggled when reading compared to speaking it, but he thought he’d give it a go. This book looked very much like a children’s book anyway so the sentence structure wouldn’t be too complicated. ‘Le Petit Prince. The Little Prince.’ Jason read aloud to no one in particular.  
Frowning, he looked back at the little boy who he found so relatable just from the illustration alone, he didn’t look much like a prince. Jason’s face lit up and he rushed back over to his spot on the couch and settled in to read. Jason didn’t look much like a rich kid either.

Opening the book, Jason’s eyes widened further and his hands trembled so much he almost dropped his newfound treasure. This book was a first edition that had been published in 1943. That was way back during the Second World War! With fingers that still shook in sheer awe of what he held in his hands, Jason appraised every inch of the book all over again. How much was this book worth? He’d never held a first edition like this before and when he thought love was what he felt when he first saw the kitchen? He had been a fool because this? This was something else entirely.  
Being as gentle as he physically could be, Jason turned to the first page and began reading. He liked reading the acknowledgments in books, they sometimes were quite interesting. This one though struck a cord with him that was so raw, Jason couldn’t even find the words to describe the ache in his chest. It was written to someone called Leon Werth, he would have to research later.  
‘I ask children to forgive me for dedicating this book to a grown-up. I have a serious excuse: this grown-up is the best friend I have in the world. I have another excuse: this grown-up can understand everything, even books for children.’ Jason muttered the translation with a slight tremor to his voice. It dragged up the same empowering response that Barrie had given, when Peter Pan had hyperventilated believing that to take a breath would kill a grown up. The idea of a grown up apologising for dedicating a book, the most precious thing in Jason’s world, to an adult was as heady as any drug bought in Crime Alley.

‘Jay? What are you reading chum?’  
The sound of Bruce’s voice startled Jason and the boy cried out in dismay when his book tumbled out of his lap. Scrambling to retrieve it, Jason brushed his fingers over the cover to check for damage before looking up at Bruce pleadingly.  
‘I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! Look, look it’s not harmed?’  
Nodding, Bruce smiled warmly and made his way over to the couch and motioned towards the empty cushion next to the boy.  
‘May I?’  
‘What?’ Jason asked, frowning down at the space next him. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was Bruce was asking permission to do? The sentence was incomplete.  
‘May I sit down?’ Bruce tried again, amusement twinkling in his eyes when Jason’s lips formed a small ‘oh’ before nodding his consent.  
Jason watched him sit, eyes narrowed suspiciously with his fingers curled tightly around his prize. Dick had told him Bruce was good and he’d started to properly believe it, but then he heard the man turn Dick away so coldly. Would he do the same to him if he didn’t agree to become Robin?

‘I see that we are back to not trusting me, Jay.’ Bruce pressed gently, studying Jason who screwed up his face and looked away. ‘I have been informed that you are aware of the disagreement between Dick and I? Jay? Please, son, can you look at me?’  
There was a sharp inhale of breath before Jason turned to stare at Bruce’s throat. Eye contact was difficult at the best of times and right now, the thought of looking at Bruce’s eyeballs made him shaky inside. Bruce didn’t seem to mind, he made an approving grunt before reaching to stroke Jason’s bicep, his touch light and gentle. Jason pulled away with a hiss and closed his eyes tightly.  
‘Jay please-‘  
A high pitched whine of distress left Jason lips without permission and frustration began to bubble in his belly again. Bruce didn’t understand, Dick did, but Dick was gone. He didn’t want Bruce to touch him not like that, never like that. If he concentrated he could bring up the feeling of his brother’s hands on him, firm and comfortingly heavy. Moving in a slow predictable fashion that made him shudder with relief. 

The hand returned to his arm, this time gripping tightly but Jason highly doubted it was intentional but felt himself calm nonetheless.  
‘Dick and I, well, things haven’t been-‘  
‘Bad blood. Dickface said bad blood.’ Jason interrupted, glancing over at the hand on his arm warily. ‘You have to say sorry not me. Dickface said I’m still his friend and his brother. It doesn’t matter.’  
It was pointless discussing the matter further. If Jason said something didn’t matter then the conversation was over and no persuasion would convince him to continue it. Whatever damage or misunderstanding that had occurred would remain there, just as Alfred had warned when Bruce finally reappeared.  
Nodding, Bruce pursed his lips and looked over at the book Jason was reading and his eyes widened slightly in surprise.  
‘The Little Prince. That’s what the title says Jay. If you want, I could teach you the language so you can read it.’  
‘I can read it?’ Jason said, looking completely and utterly offended at the assumption that he could not. ‘I ain’t dumb.’  
‘Oh! No, no Jay, I just thought, with being absent from school so long - you speak French?’

Jason hummed thoughtfully and traced his fingers over the cover of the book as if it were a sacred artefact. He’d forgotten that Bruce didn’t know, like the book said, grown ups sometimes needed a little help to understand things. He supposed he couldn’t expect a grown up to think of such trivial things.  
‘I speak four languages. I learnt Spanish first, then English. I taught myself German and French. I’m not as good at reading French as I am speaking it though. I like reading, mainly because I like language and words. Words all sound different and the different sounds we make mean the same thing sometimes or sometimes not. Words are mystical beings and can be difficult to understand but others speak then so freely. But I know I shouldn’t talk about words.’ Jason rambled, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he remembered the rule Bruce had put in place the other day. He hadn’t meant to but apparently he’d been talking about words all day. Dick and Alfred had taken it in turns to sit and listen to him but Bruce was having none of it and put a stop to such nonsense by telling Jason that he wasn’t allowed to talk about words anymore.  
‘No. No, Jay forget that rule. I apologise, I should never have made that rule.’ Bruce said, his brow furrowed slightly in thought, he had to admit, Dick had a point about him being well, a dick. ‘Would you like to tell me something else about you?’

Exhaling slowly, Jason drummed his fingers against his lap.  
‘I-I don’t like touch, like light touch, it’s meant to feel soft but it makes me jumpy. I like deep touch, heavy touch.’  
Bruce nodded and tried to mask the elation to finally be gaining some ground with his son. Maybe a slow and gentle approach was the way to get Jason to talk.? Glancing back at the book in Jason’s lap, he carefully lifted it into his own and smiled at the boy warmly when he tensed and glanced up at him in alarm.  
‘When was the last time someone read to you?’ Bruce asked, watching Jason worry his lip for a moment before shaking his head.  
‘Mamá did. I read to Mickey and the others.’  
‘Who’s Mickey?’  
Jason suddenly paled and looked down at his feet, wiggling his toes to distract himself. Apparently that was information he hadn’t been prepared to share. Deciding not to focus on it, Bruce opened the book and began to read instead.  
‘Lorsque j’avais six ans j’ai vu, une fois, une magnifique image, dans un livre sur la forêt virege qui s’appelait Histoires vécues.’ Bruce began reading, blinking when Jason murmured the translation beneath his breath. It was sometimes easy to forget how unbelievably clever Jason was.

Time passed and Jason was so engrossed with the story Bruce hadn’t even noticed the late hour or that they had slowly made their way through the entire book. Jason seemed to see a part of himself in the Little Prince and Bruce, well, he could see the likeness. A little boy living on his own little planet, curious but always refusing to answer questions, and a laugh that danced amongst the stars. In a way, Jason was like his very own Little Prince, how he loved to hear his laughter.  
They were just reaching the end of the story when Jason stilled and looked up from where he had rested his head on Bruce’s arm. He looked concerned and rather upset.  
‘The snake is going to bite the Little Prince? The Little Prince doesn’t die, does he Bruce?’  
Smiling sadly, Bruce pressed a kiss to the boy’s head and held him closer to his side, hoping that Jason didn’t get the wrong message when he allowed the boy to play with the embroidery on his dressing gown.  
‘Dans une de ces étoiles, je vivrai. Dans l'un d'eux, je ris. Et ce sera comme si toutes les étoiles riaient, quand on regarde le ciel la nuit.’ Bruce read in reply to Jason’s concern regarding the Little Prince, for even when a child knew death so intimately, it was hard to confirm it. Bruce always had wondered if the Little Prince really did die though, or did he really just return to his little planet?

‘In one of those stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night.’ Jason said with a small smile, looking up and out at the night sky. ‘I like stars!’  
‘Do you?’  
‘Oui’ Jason replied with a firm nod. ‘Continue de lire!’ he demanded, tapping Bruce’s hand insistently. Chuckling, Bruce nodded and continued to read as requested.  
‘Et quand votre chagrin est réconforté (le temps apaise toutes les douleurs), vous serez content que vous me connaissiez. Tu seras toujours mon ami ... Je ne te quitterai pas.’  
There was a long silence and the smile faded a little as Jason listened, his eyes never leaving the stars outside.  
‘And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend...I shall not leave you.’ Sighing, Jason looked back at Bruce warily. ‘Dickface is my friend.’  
Nodding, Bruce swallowed down a rush of guilt and looked up at the stars as well.  
‘He always will be, Jay. He’ll come home again soon. What did you over hear?’  
‘You should phone him and say your sorry. You have to say sorry when you upset someone even if you don’t mean it.’ Jason deflected, giving Bruce a very authoritative look.  
Bruce tired not to wince, both from knowing that he really should make things up with Dick again, but also at Jason’s skewed reasoning.  
‘Of course I shall. Now, let’s finish this book before bed.’


	8. The Davinci Code

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, I have not forgotten about needing to actually correct the French in the last chapter.
> 
> I’ll get around to it, soon, I just have an exam next week to prepare for and I plan to attend to this sometime during a break in my studying.
> 
> Sorry?  
> Serves me right for cheating instead of just using my brain! Ha!

Dick never showed up again.  
Jason tried to call the number but he had one little problem.  
Jason never liked phones all that much. There was nothing overly bad about them it was just that talking on them was something that panicked him. What if he lost his words? The idea of being struck dumb halfway through a phone call was one of Jason’s worst nightmares. He had wanted to talk to Dick though, to see if Bruce had apologised. So Jason decided to be proactive. His heart had beat a frantic rhythm that was more elation than anxiety when he’d collected his school notebook and a pen. Ripping out a page, Jason sat on his bed and began writing out script as to how the conversation would go. If he knew what to say beforehand maybe his words wouldn’t get lost, if there was a map to follow? Like Jim Hawkins in Treasure Island.  
With his script completed, Jason skipped off to Bruce’s study to borrow his phone. He stopped to eye up the grandfather clock noting the time on it, 10.48. The time was wrong. Smirking, Jason shook his head and went back to the task in hand.

Dick had answered after a couple of rings. It had been quicker than Jason had planned for.  
The abrupt change in the plan sent everything off kilter and Jason floundered like a fish out of water to get himself back on track.  
Dick repeated the words ‘hello?’ and ‘Bruce is that you?’  
Jason wanted to answer but his eyes couldn’t focus on the words he’d written down. The Dick in his script hadn’t asked if he was Bruce? The Dick in his script didn’t answer the phone so quickly. To his horror, Jason was left sat on Bruce’s chair listening to Dick asking if he was Bruce, his tongue as heavy as lead in his mouth.  
‘Bruce!’  
‘Nn- nn- no.’ Jason finally managed to force out. There was an audible gasp.  
‘Jay? Little Wing is that you?’  
‘Snitches get stitches!’  
Gasping, Jason jolted upright and gazed around the room, terror shooting through him like an electric current at the voice. He knew that voice! Was he here? Had he been found? Was the phone tapped?  
‘Little Wing? You okay? Little Wing? Is Alfred there? Can you hand the phone over to him for me?’  
‘No.’  
The word just popped out of his mouth like a cuckoo out of a cuckoo clock.  
Blood rushed up to his cheeks and Jason couldn’t breathe. It were as if he’d been running and try as he might, he could not catch his breath.  
‘Little Wing! Listen to me. Take deep breaths. Little Wing you’re oka-‘  
Jason slammed the phone down and crumbled down into a little ball underneath Bruce’s desk. Hands clenching tightly over his ears, he tried his hardest to be as quiet as possible. If he was quiet then no one could find him.

Time seemed meaningless. In one way, it seemed seconds until a pair of polished shoes appeared by the desk. There was a sound of a door closing that wasn’t the study door. Peeping out from his hiding spot, Jason slammed a hand over his mouth to silence himself. Bruce was standing there, frowning down at the paper left on the desk. The grandfather clock was magic! Jason knew it!  
‘Alfred? Where’s Jay?’  
The actual study door opened and Jason shrunk back further beneath the desk when Alfred entered.  
‘I must confess that the whereabouts of the feral child has been quite a challenge sir.’  
There was a silence, followed by the crinkle of the paper being picked up.  
‘You mean to tell me that you have no idea where my son is?’  
Jason’s eyes widened and he couldn’t help but peer up at Bruce in confusion. Was the man now talking about Dick? Not that he would look a gift horse in the mouth, any distractions from his ‘disappearance’ would be beneficial.  
‘Regrettably that is the case sir. Master Jason was in his room but that was 3 hours ago sir. He did not to attend dinner as usual.’  
‘He’s been in here Alfred! By the looks of it he called Dick, he took notes.’

There was more crinkling as the paper was handed over to Alfred, who hummed thoughtfully.  
‘I disagree Master Bruce. These are not the words of Master Richard. For instance, I doubt the young sir as even read Treasure Island never mind is able to quote from it.’  
‘Jay wrote it, like a script.’ Bruce mumbled, sitting down in his chair with a heavy sigh. Jason shank back again, pressing himself up against the back of the desk. ‘He must have tried to call his brother. Alfred, go to the treehouse and see if the boy is there. It has become a favourite hiding place.’  
‘Yes sir.’  
The door closed and Jason prayed that Bruce would soon leave and then he could make his escape. However, as always, luck and Jason were not best buddies.  
A shoe collided with Jason’s ribs and he couldn’t help but yelp in pain, curling further in on himself. Flashes of before running a stream of footage behind his tightly shut eyelids. Logic tried to tell him that it was an accident, it was just Bruce, but Jason wouldn’t or couldn’t listen. He was finally getting the beating he’d been asking for since his arrival. 

A hand reached beneath the desk and Jason kicked out with a squeal but the man just caught hold of his ankle and pulled him out into the evening light.  
‘Jay? Jay stop it. Stop it Jay.’ Bruce called out, grabbing at flying limbs as Jason fought with everything he had, and for a child, the boy was quite a talented fighter. ‘Jay you’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s Bruce?’  
Slamming his head back against Bruce’s nose, Jason used his stunned moment to make his escape. He’d have made it too, if not for the booming voice that sent him careering back down to the floor.  
‘Enough Jason!’ Batman’s voice reverberated off the walls, and the shock was too much for the boy.  
Curling back up into his ball, Jason shook his head violently and tried to make his limbs stop shaking. He couldn’t breathe again.  
Hands were on him and Jason screamed. The touch biting and so real, too real.

‘Jay, sssh, ssh son. You’re safe.’ Bruce soothed, his voice soft and low as he tucked the boy’s head under his chin. Remembering his son’s words, Bruce held the boy tighter and he felt a shuddering sob in response. Finally, there was gasp and Jason’s breathing evened out.  
‘That’s it son, that’s it. Good boy.’  
Keeping his eyes tightly shut, Jason took another deep breath and the smell of cologne hit him. Not the cologne he was expecting but the cologne Bruce Wayne wore.  
‘B-Batman?’  
‘Sssh, you’re safe Jason.’  
Nodding, this time Jason managed to accept this statement. He was safe.  
‘Are you calmer now Jay?’  
Nodding again, Jason took Bruce’s question to mean to let go so he reluctantly pulled away and moved to get up again only for a hand to grasp hold of his tightly.  
‘Steady son, steady.’ Bruce said, squeezing Jason’s hand tighter, he smiled in reassurance. Jason frowned at his captured hand but made no attempt to free himself of it.  
‘I’m not going to hurt you, Jay.’

Nodding, Jason swallowed thickly and made a conscious effort to not look at the grandfather clock. Bruce stood and tugged him back over to the desk and Jason followed obediently. It was pointless fighting, he’d already lost. Bruce paused when he reached his chair and looked around his study as if confused about something, before pushing Jason lightly to sit down.  
‘Stay there, Jay.’  
The clear instruction was easy to follow at least, and maybe, if Jason did as told, he wouldn’t be in quite as much trouble as he was. Just thinking about the mere bright idea of trying to runway made him wince with shame. How could he be so stupid?  
Startling at a scraping noise, Jason watched Bruce drag a chair from the corner of the study to sit next to him. Well, that was new, normally when he was in trouble adults towered above him. Probably just to prove how much power they had over him, not that Jason ever needed that little reminder. In fact, Bruce almost looked uncomfortable and possibly worried, as if he didn’t know what to say. It was confusing. The man definitely knew how to yell, he’d yelled at Dick with no problem so why was it so hard now?  
The script he had written was pressed into his hands and Jason stared at it.  
‘You called Dick.’ Bruce said simply, there was no question in his tone.

Swallowing thickly, Jason nodded and looked down at his pathetic attempt to predict the future. All those questions he’d had that now were to go unanswered, just like everything else. Bruce’s lips thinned and he pointed out one of Jason’s questions, his eyebrow quirking upwards slightly.  
‘He told you about Robin? During your conversation.’  
Shaking his head, Jason rubbed at the tears welling in his eyes and despite his best attempts he looked over at the grandfather clock. Jason had so many questions. So many things he’d wanted to say clogging up his head but was never allowed to actually speak them. Even if he wanted to, half the time he lost his voice even on the rare occasion someone was willing to hear it. Everyone listened to Robin though, didn’t they? Robin didn’t ask questions, Robin found the answers himself. During his first night at the Manor Bruce told him that names had power. Jason hadn’t really understood what he’d meant until now, Jason was a weak name, one without power but Robin? Robin was a boy who had power.

Bruce was talking again but Jason didn’t hear him. He was lost in a very vivid vision of himself behind ‘the’ mask.  
‘It’s the time your parents died. Isn’t it?’ Jason finally spoke, blinking back at Bruce, who was staring at him like everyone did when he acted weird. Frowning, the boy looked back at the grandfather clock and pointed at the hands that were now showing the correct time. ‘You move the hands to 10:48? That’s the time your parents died, right?’  
‘Okay. Why would I do that Jason?’ Bruce replied, his words carefully chosen and steady. Jason however did not pick up on this caution and just threw him a look as if he had just dribbled down his shirt.  
‘Because the clock is magic and that’s how you open it? Like how ‘open sesame’ is how the 40 thieves open the magic cave but instead you use magic numbers. Although, I kinda only knew that today. I mean, I knew it was magic before but never how to open it. Then I saw the hands and you walking through it. You don’t beat boys.’ Jason rambled.  
Jason knew he was rambling could tell by the wide eyed expression in Bruce’s face but he couldn’t help himself. Now calmer, he remembered that Bruce didn’t beat his boys but that didn’t stop the niggling doubt in his head.  
Bruce didn’t seem to know which way was up. He just sat, blinking at him for a moment before making a show of clearing his throat.  
‘Jay, son, are you telling me that you worked that out by yourself?’

Nodding, Jason sucked on his bottom lip and dropped his gaze to stare at his feet. It was the same old story, adults loved the idea of him being clever, until he worked out their secrets, then they got angry. He understood it. Jason had his own secrets and he imagined himself being angry if some dolt worked it out yet, despite this insight, he just couldn’t seem to stop himself from working them out anyway. There was another hum and Bruce learnt forwards to press his forefingers against his lips thoughtfully.  
‘Do you know what’s behind my clock chum?’  
‘The Batcave.’ Jason whispered, tears welling up in his eyes at the admission. He’d already taken out his death warrant he might as well just sign it. ‘You’re Batman. The Batcave had to be somewhere nearby, else how can you get to it quickly when the city needs saving? It’s just common sense.’  
The piece of paper was taken from him again and Jason watched with bated breath as Bruce re-read his conversation with Dick. Bruce didn’t seem angry though. He should be, but the man seemed more upset, confused or possibly just quizzical.  
‘Dick didn’t tell you?’  
‘Nn-no Bruce. Please, I tells ya the truth it was all me. Too clever for my own good they says. I’d didn’t meant to? Sometimes the answers just pop up, like daisies. My brain won’t do as its told, I tried to tell it to ignore it but this house has secrets and that’s the secret. Dick was sad when he left because he thought he’d told me, I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t like that. I knew anyway. Probably before you even brought me here, maybe.’ 

Closing his eyes tightly shut, Jason fisted his hands in his lap, concentrating on the bite of his nails against his palm. He waited for the yelling to start. Bruce may not beat him but he would yell at him. Bruce had yelled at Dick and made him go away, why would he be any different?  
A small chuckle caught his attention. Cracking open an eye Jason saw Bruce sat before him with this odd little smile that seemed to not be able to make up its mind if it wanted to be there.  
‘You are quite a peculiarity aren’t you Jay? So, my clever boy worked out the mystery of Batman all by himself. And this?’ Lifting the paper, Bruce quirked an eyebrow at him and his gaze sobered. ‘This was a script wasn’t it?’  
Swallowing, Jason nodded, not really knowing if he was in trouble or not.  
‘How was Dick? Is he okay?’  
Shame washed over Jason and the tears welling in his eyes broke free and rolled down burning cheeks.  
‘I-I don’t know.’ He stammered, eyes fixed on the paper in Bruce’s hand. He didn’t expect the man to reach across and squeeze his shoulder, flinching he turned away and just wished the ground would open up and swallow him.  
‘You struggled to use the phone. That’s what all this was about, wasn’t it Jay? Not- not discovering my identity or the use of the grandfather clock. This was about using the phone. Jay, you know you can use the phone, this is your home? What happened?’ Bruce said, eyes searching the boy for any clue as the source of his distress but as usual, Jason’s emotions were hidden under his blank facade. Jason couldn’t have replied if he’d wanted to. 

Without even trying Jason knew he’d lost his words. How could you describe something you can barely remember but know is bad? How he’d forgotten about not using the phone, the memory even now, hazy, and he couldn’t quite grasp the full story. In truth, he wasn’t even sure if it counted as a memory if he could recall feelings more than facts.  
How was meant to describe hearing those words, the words that sounded so real, yet vanished into the air as if they’d never existed at all? Had they existed? Part of Jason suggested that the voice hadn’t been real, but how could you hear what wasn’t there? No, none of it made sense, none of it easily explained by a few words selected from the dictionary.  
In the end, only two words seemed to fit, the two words that came from the memory he couldn’t recall and the voice that wasn’t there.  
‘Snitches get stitches.’ Jason mumbled, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks as he pulled up his knees to bury his face into them.  
Bruce’s face darkened but thankfully, Jason was too busy burying his own into his knees to see it. If the boy had seen that emotion he would have immediately assumed that it was aimed at him.  
Taking a deep, grounding breath, Bruce collected himself and made sure to display his usual neutral expression despite the fear in his gut about what he was delving into. With Jason sometimes it was so tempting just to ignore everything and pretend it was fine.  
‘Jay, can you tell me who said that to you?’  
Two eyes peeped up from the top of knobbly knees, a child’s knees, but the look in those blue eyes was not the look of a child at all. Pursing his lips, Bruce nodded slowly and looked back down at the paper in his hands and an idea struck him. Placing it on his desk, Bruce grabbed a pencil from his desk tidy and set it down next to it.  
‘Okay. Okay how about this Jay? How about you draw for me what those words are about hmm? It doesn’t have to be a masterpiece.’ Bruce suggested, looking back at Jason hoping against hope that the boy would take he bait.

Jason lowered his knees and looked from Bruce to the paper critically. He didn’t know what to make of it. Was that telling? Telling involved words, words come from the dictionary. Pictures were not words but they did speak, was that still telling? Huffing a breath, Jason rolled closer to the desk and picked up the pencil, worrying his lip as he did so. No.  
No, this felt wrong.  
Putting down the pencil again he shook his head and closed his eyes again.  
Jason wasn’t strong enough to take the risk. Was drawing telling if no words were used?  
Robin was strong though, Robin took risks, he was brave and powerful and everyone listened to him. Robin wouldn’t care if drawing was telling, he’d draw the damn picture and stick it on the fridge.  
Opening his eyes, Jason took hold of the pencil with a determination he’d never felt before, it were as if magic was buzzing through him. Jason decided there and then that he like having magic, Robin magic. Robin magic moved the pencil along the back of his script. Robin magic, that kept his hand steady and brought to life the picture he could see so vividly in his head. Robin could do what Jason couldn’t.  
It felt like forever and a few seconds all at he same time but finally, there on the paper was a picture of what had caused him to freak out about using the phone. Setting down the pencil, Jason looked up at Bruce, expecting to see understanding. Instead, the man seemed puzzled before smiling and tapping his shoulder. With every tap, the Robin magic dampened down, like when Peter Pan tapped Tinkerbell to extract pixie dust.  
‘I know Dick doesn’t think I’m good enough, but I can do it. I can be Robin!’ Jason yelled, the sudden rush of anger catching him off guard and he didn’t really know what it was he was angry about? Pushing away from the desk he finally managed to succeed in escaping the study.

Bruce watched Jason leave with a heavy heart. His gaze slipped back down to the paper left abandoned on the desk. It was a drawing of a phone. Not the antique style one on his desk but the cheap plastic style landline that you found attached to a wall. The receiver was pointing towards a very well drawn image of Jason. The boy on the paper though, was crying.  
It didn’t make any sense. Why was the phone making Jason cry?  
‘Master Bruce?’  
Lifting his head, Bruce noticed Alfred standing before him and wondered half heartedly why he hadn’t heard him come in? He only ever did that when he was in the deep throes of a mind boggling case, he looked back at Jason’s picture.  
‘Ah, I see. Someone threatened Master Jason sir?’ Alfred asked, his brow furrowing slightly in concern. It seemed like the man was about to go and get his shot gun.  
Bruce looked back at the picture, he shook his head in abject confusion.  
‘I don’t understand Alfred? How did you come up with that?’

A sly smile stretched across the butler’s face and he motioned towards the flying receiver.  
‘The drawing sir? Master Jason is an imaginative child for one so literal. This sir, is the young master being assaulted by a phone. Now, either the boy is claiming to have been attacked by a poltergeist or-‘  
‘Someone threatened Jason with violence if he tried to use the phone.’ Bruce interrupted, scanning over the drawing with new eyes and he began to feel physically ill. ‘Someone wanted to keep him quiet. Either he is hiding the event or, or he simply can’t remember what happened. He just remembers the rule. Snitches get stitches.’ Bruce spoke his thoughts aloud, his voice becoming deeper and deeper until by the end, it had become Batman’s growl. ‘Jason likes rules.’  
‘Master Bruce I must advice that you tread carefully. The young master has given you a lot today, I am pleading worth you, leave him be tonight. Let him rest.’ Alfred said, but Bruce wasn’t listening.  
‘Robin! He wants to be Robin. Always has done. He knew all this time and said nothing. Snitches get stitches. I can’t believe I was so stupid! Stupid and careless!’ Bruce bellowed, self hatred practically oozing off him as he slammed a fist into the 2d phone. Alfred didn’t even blink he just sighed and tried not to look exasperated.  
‘Must I remind you of Master Richard’s parting words sir? The last thing Master Jason needs is to play a part in your self destructive quest for vengeance. He needs a father sir, not Batman.’

Silence hung in the air like the Sword of Damocles. Both men knowing that the next few moments would change the course of fate. Just a few words and everything could change, all without the boy in question even being present.  
‘I know what it’s like to feel powerless Alfred.’ Bruce mumbled, fingers tracing the tears of the picture Jason’s face. ‘A name, can give you power.’


	9. The Changeling

Life is a funny thing. One minute it crawls by at a pace so excruciatingly slow the want to just beg for it all to end is overwhelming. The next, time has past in a blink of an eye and somehow A went to Z without any solid recollection as to how it happened. Jason wasn’t sure how the last few months had happened at all. All he knew was that he wasn’t as angry anymore. He rarely had one of his ‘fits’ and somehow, the nightmares that enjoyed poking and prodding at him were just mild annoyances. It was as if he was another person. He was another person.  
Lifting his head, Jason smiled at his reflection in the mirror. Jason wasn’t looking back, no, Robin looked back at him now. He even tried to avoid looking in the mirror until he pulled on the uniform. He didn’t want to see Jason, he wanted to see Robin.

Robin was calm.  
Robin was clever.  
Robin was a hero.  
Robin was strong.  
Jason liked being those things. A name gave you power and Jason felt the magic thrumming through his veins. The power to change the world.  
Jason had been stuffed down deep inside and part of him whispered that one day Jason would have to come back but that whisper went ignored.   
Jason was frightened.  
Jason was confused.  
Jason wasn’t a hero.  
Jason definitely wasn’t strong.  
Jason didn’t like being those things. So he wasn’t. It really was that simple.  
Yes, he had locked Jason away in a small dark room, in the darkest part of his subconscious but in all honesty what was so bad about that? Bruce did the same years ago and he was perfectly fine.  
A memory of Bruce sat alone in his bedroom making friends with a bottle of bourbon flashed across his minds eye but Jason blinked it away in favour of fixing his mask.  
He smiled again at Robin’s reflection. 

‘Robin! I’m leaving!’ Bruce yelled, just a touch of exasperation entering his tone. Alfred thought Jason was like Dick, that he spent hours stood in front of the mirror admiring himself. This was far from the truth, vanity was not a concept that Jason had ever really thought about. To admire himself seemed alien even when he was Robin. No, Jason spent the time making sure his costume was fixed perfectly. Every buckle and fold in its place, mask aligned to mathematical accuracy. He needed to prove to Dick, to Alfred and to Bruce that he was good enough. Jason hoped that if every button was polished and he looked in the mirror hard enough, one night he would begin to believe it.  
Believe that he was worthy to be Robin.  
Believe that he was good enough. Not good, just being good enough would do.  
That night hadn’t come yet.  
Dashing out into the main area of the Cave, Jason didn’t wait for Bruce to leave like Dick did. He ran underneath Bruce’s outstretched arms and cartwheeled into his seat in the Batmobile. He didn’t notice that Bruce had wanted a hug and didn’t see the man drop his arms with the shake of his head.  
‘Come on Old Man! I’m ready, so let’s go! Come on!’ Jason demanded loudly, feet tapping a frantic rhythm on the floor of the car. Not matter how many times he’d been out on patrol, excitement bubbled through him. For just a moment, he could pretend that he was good enough. For a moment, Jason actually could feel that he belonged somewhere.  
Robin magic did that.

Bruce smiled to himself. No one was around, so he allowed Batman a small smile that would go unseen. It had been a quiet night with nothing more untoward than stopping the mugging of an elderly lady. Bruce felt pride blossom beneath the Bat symbol on his chest when the woman had smiled and said what an esteemed young man Robin was after the boy had handed her back her handbag. Jason seemed to almost levitate with excitement at the compliment and stuttered his way through a thanks before grappling out of the conversation with a very red face.  
So that was what had Bruce smiling. He’d tracked Robin down to his gargoyle. The gargoyle was apparently Jason’s friend which was a little concerning, but when Bruce had last pressed the issue the response was ‘people make my ears hurt.’ Whatever that was supposed to mean?  
Jason was wrapped up snuggly in his cape, eyes half closed as he muttered sleepily to his friend. Bruce couldn’t make out the entirety of the conversation but he heard enough to know that Jason was recounting his nighttime adventure.   
‘Lady said I was esteemed. Esteemed is a verb, a verb is a doing word. I like doing words. Doing words mean you do things, I like doing things. If you stop he catches you. Esteemed means to admire or respect. Lady must have dementia. What d’ya think, hmm?’

The pride in Bruce’s chest dampened as he watched the boy yawn and snuggle further into his friend’s stone arms with a tired sigh. He did consider bringing up what he’d just overheard but Jason was a private boy. Bruce had a feeling that bringing up a conversation he had not been given permission to overhear would not end well.  
‘There you are! Ready to head back Robin?’ Bruce called out, chuckling when Jason startled back awake and blinked up at him owlishly.  
‘No!’ Jason protested, lip sticking out in the most delightful pout. ‘I wanna stay out longer. I’m not tired!’  
Bruce shook his head with a chuckle, a lot still confused him about Jason but this? Oh he was an old hat at this. Dick had tried to pull the same stunt back when he’d been Robin, he still did. Even in the same exhausted state that Jason was currently in, Dick would also maintain that he wasn’t tired to try and stay out on patrol a little longer.  
‘Alright champ, how about this? We still head back, but we’ll go the sleepy way home?’  
Jason’s eyes brightened at this and he nodded in earnest before scrambling up to his feet. Jason knew all about the sleepy way home. 

The sleepy way home was like going home the long way around and then some. Batman turned Gotham into an obstacle course for the ‘not tired’ Robin to run through. It worked. Every time. Without fail.  
No sooner did Robin’s feet cross the threshold of the grandfather clock and the boy was out for the count.  
From Robin’s point of view though, it was a fun game that earned him a few extra precious minutes out in the city.  
‘Okay, deal!’ Jason yelled at the top of his lungs, forgetting momentarily about using a volume that suited the situation and not his emotions. Blushing, he grinned up at Bruce sheepishly. ‘Sorry Batman. Didn’t mean t’yell.’  
‘You’re alright son.’ Bruce assured him, ruffling the boy’s hair fondly before turning to walk off the rooftop. ‘Come on Robin! I’m ready to go, so let’s go!’  
Jason screwed up his face to be mocked so openly and watched Batman disappear with a growl. Tightening his jaw, he set off after the man at a run.  
‘Oy! You come back and say that to my face like a fucking man!’  
‘Language Robin.’

The sleepy way home however was not foolproof. Sure, it’s was Batman’s way of manipulating Robin to go to sleep, but Jason had soon worked out that a road could be travelled down both ways. If he pretended to be tired and followed Bruce upstairs without protest? No one actually came to check if the boy was actually asleep in his bed.   
Jason had to stand on Bruce’s chair to reach the hands of the grandfather clock. Alfred kept reassuring him that he would soon catch up with his peers but that didn’t change the fact that despite vigorous workout, Jason was short and skinny.   
The boy looked more like he was around eight years old by his physique, not a boy who had reached his teens. Jason scoffed when Bruce smiled and said it meant he could keep his innocence longer because the man was clearly delusional. Also, did no one realise how frustrating it was to be considered a young child when you wanted to be grown up so badly?  
Life just wasn’t fair.  
Huffing out a dejected sigh, Jason shook his head and pushed the chair out of the way just as the grandfather clock opened and he snuck downstairs.  
One day he hoped he would be tall enough to reach the hands of the grandfather clock. Like most things in Jason’s life though, he considered it to be a pipe dream. 

The air was was icy cold and bit into Jason who was dressed in just the pale, blue flannel of his pyjamas. The Batcave was not built for comfort, or for insomniac Robins in their pyjamas.  
A flap of wings caught Jason’s attention and he offered the bats a smile and a wave before continuing his decent to the Batcomputer.  
Sure, he was cold, but Jason had been colder and he really wanted to try and get a grip on how the stupid computer worked. It was as if Bruce had made it extra complicated just because he could.  
Shaking his head, Jason sat down in Batman’s chair and fired up the great hunk of over complicated junk, breathing into his hands to try and warm them up.  
The plan wasn’t to work on anything particularly, he just wanted to have a snoop around without Bruce breathing down his neck, just waiting for him to mess up. Jason wanted some time to just work his way through the intricate web of files, information and programs. There were secrets here too, of that much he was certain. Bruce didn’t like him using the Batcomputer without supervision and he had a sneaky feeling it wasn’t just because he was still technically learning.   
Eventually, Jason started sifting through a folder of cases Batman was clearly working on, on the side. Almost like a hobby file, something Batman did to unwind and kill some time. The idea was rather amusing and an impish grin spread across Jason’s face as he clicked on a few of them to have a look.

His grin faltered as the cursor opened a file named ‘Case: 56’.  
Apparently Bruce didn’t have a clever name for this one yet.  
That wasn’t what caused Jason’s heart to beat a frantic rhythm in his chest, for his ears to ring and fingers to shake as he typed on the keyboard.  
This file contained photographs and not much else. A few notes here and there but not the in-depth analysis Bruce normally had.   
One of the pictures stopped Jason in his tracks.  
A boy a couple of year older than him was staring up at what was obviously frozen CCTV footage.  
A tumble of dirty blonde curls hidden behind a red beanie hat that Jason would recognise anywhere.  
‘Mickey?’ Jason whispered, quickly clicking on all the other pictures to enlarge them.  
His blood ran cold.

His mind screamed at him to flee. To shut it all off and just run away.  
His body wouldn’t move though. It remained stuck to the seat as if he were glued to it.  
Forcing him to stare at the horror before him.  
Again and again, there were pictures of Mickey and a few other kids Jason recognised.  
All of them about to climb into a cab.  
Swallowing thickly, Jason read the notes Bruce had typed.

‘The same kids, always unaccompanied. Always getting into the same cab. Same drivers.  
Why? What for? Where are the kids being taken?  
Company?’

Wide eyes dropped to see enlarged images of the cabs. The logo always obscured either by poor resolution or by something being in the way.  
Bruce knew!  
Batman had noticed the kids!

Shaking his head, Jason scrambled to shut everything down and make his escape to his bedroom. To hide under the covers and pretend that he didn’t see anything. That none of this was real. It never was real.  
Jason wasn’t Jason anymore.  
Jason ran away and hid.  
Jason was Robin now.  
Robin didn’t run away and he never hid.  
Robin would help.  
The cursor hovered over the cross at the top of the last photograph and Jason looked up at Mickey’s face. Mickey was more someone he knew rather than a friend. Not like how Dickie was his friend. Mickey was just another shitty kid like himself and he supposed, they’d found comfort in that. Frowning, Jason sucked on his bottom lip, his stomach a pit of snakes and the threat of revisiting his dinner was very real. Robin fought for justice and where was the justice in leaving Mickey behind to rot while he slept alone in a warm bed every night?   
He couldn’t say anything. It was the rules and even Robin followed the rules.  
Glancing down at his trembling fingers, Jason squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He had to make a decision. Do or die. Hasn’t that always been the painful crux of life?

Anticipation. Life held at a pause.   
That moment when the cartoon character runs off a cliff and looks at the audience. The sharp inhale as the trapdoor of the gallows opened for the condemned. The gasp when a lover steps closer, lips parted.  
Anticipation. The description of a single moment in time. Just a moment. A moment when the world doesn’t tilt, explode or otherwise move. The moment when time doesn’t screech to a halt but slams headlong into a wall.   
Anticipation is only meant to last a moment. To drag on for longer is to leave a person gasping for breath, body humming with adrenaline, to fight or flee, but having no real direction in which to focus on. To spend more than a moment in a timeless void of gasped breath and frantic heartbeats is nothing short of maddening.

Everything was too loud. The scrape of a spoon against a bowl at breakfast, the squeak of a chair in the classroom, the crunch of a peer eating chips, feet walking along the sidewalk. Every sound is nothing short of deafening, leaving an aching head behind like a footprint.  
Jason had been left in this painful limbo for what felt like an eternity. He knew what he had done and the secret on top of secrets was like trying to wade through molasses. The smallest thing had his temper flaring, rendering Jason as nothing but a passenger in his own damn body.  
Each night Jason followed Bruce down to the Batcave, even on a school night, when patrol was not allowed. Every night Bruce would fire up the Batcomputer and Jason would hold his breath. Every night the evidence of what Jason had done went unnoticed.   
Jason wanted to scream.   
He wanted to grab the infuriatingly blind man and press his nose to the screen like you would a disobedient puppy.  
‘Look! Look at your files Old Man! I helped you for fucks sake!’  
The words never left Jason’s lips. Every night, Jason would remain silent, force a smile and retire to bed to roll around until morning and pretend that counted as sleep.

It would be dawn soon. Time was meaningless in the depths of the Cave but Bruce felt it in his bones. The sun would be rising soon and a new day would begin. It was unnerving that the almost overwhelming feeling of disappointment was little more than a bothersome niggle nowadays. Ever since Jason had arrived, like his brother, Bruce found the presence of the young boy somehow gave him a reason to see in another day.  
Stifling a yawn behind his fist, Bruce clicked off the case for the night and decided to have another go at figuring out one of his side cases. They always proved to either map out his mission for the next night or frustrate to the point of mind numbing exhaustion, resulting in at least a few hours sleep.  
‘Master Bruce? I thought one might like to be informed that it is mere hours until Master Jason shall be due to rise.’ Alfred announced his presence with his usual air of disapproval. Secretly, Bruce was a little disappointed that the butler had never uttered the words ‘one is not amused.’  
Letting out a sigh that Bruce would forever protest was not petulant, he opened the file of Case 56 to have another go at guessing the cab company. 

His eyes widened before Bruce closed them and shook his head to try and wake himself, then squinted back up at the screen in confusion.  
Apparently, his task had already been completed.  
There. Staring right back at him was a logo of a cab company that matched the distorted images he already had. Bruce frowned and massaged his temples in a bid to try and recall when he could have done it, but he drew a blank. He would have remembered doing something so significant.  
‘Master Bruce? Is everything alright sir?’ Alfred called out, stepping closer after his previous greeting had gone ignored. ‘Ah, I see we are dallying.’  
‘The cab company Alfred.’   
Observing the new information, Alfred nodded stiffly.  
‘May I offer my congratulations sir? You have found deciphering that logo quite vexing.’  
‘I didn’t do it Alfred.’ Bruce said plainly, a small smile tugged at his lips. ‘I would have remembered doing something like that.’

Raising an eyebrow, Alfred looked from Bruce to the little bag of buttons left on the side with a thoughtful hum.  
‘Maybe it was the fairies sir? Or might I suggest a mischievous imp?’  
‘Very funny Alfred. Don’t you see it? He’s trying to make it up with me. He hacked into a case I was struggling with and helped solve it. Always was such a bright boy.’ Bruce explained, fondness sparkling behind his eyes.   
‘My apologies sir, but whom exactly are we talking about?’  
‘Dick. That’s why he’s done this? Because I upset him?’ Bruce asked with an unsureness that few ever saw. Alfred paused for a moment. The wide eyed expression filled with a confusion for a world that was seen through an entirely different window, eerily familiar to another set of blue eyes he had gotten to know. It was the inevitable curse of mortality, to be too old to pretend that one did not see the pieces of the puzzle and how they fit together before even the most vigilant youth even knew of their existence. Nodding slowly, Alfred offered the man, who was still but a boy in his eyes, a warm smile and patted his shoulder in reassurance. Wise eyes once more lifting to study the magically appearing logo.  
‘Master Richard contacted me to inform you that he’d be home for Christmas. Which is next week sir.’ Alfred said, moving slowly over towards the bag of buttons, he picked them gently as if they were the most fragile thing on Earth. ‘Please excuse me sir, I must return these to Master Jason. I must urge you to at least let me pretend that you are sleeping.’  
Nodding, Bruce cast a look over at the buttons in his butter’s hand before returning to his work. He had drivers of a cab company to find.   
‘Of course. Don’t worry Alfred, I know Jason gets angsty if I’m not up for breakfast.’

The once empty bedroom, soulless and void of life, was beginning to show signs of the presence of a very active but odd boy. Everything was neatly ordered with everything in its place. The only mess was the screwed up bedding on the large bed. The boy that was meant to be sleeping there was absent.  
Quirking an eyebrow, Alfred moved around it to spot a small lump curled up on the floor beside it. Jason was fast asleep, his face smushed up into the pillow. No matter what position the boy fell asleep in, eventually he always moved into the feral position, thumb almost in his mouth but never quite. It was as if Jason thought it to be a babyish action so never actually fully committed to it.  
The boy was a picture of youth and innocence beneath his comforter.  
Old, wise eyes rested on the crease in Jason’s brow, the wobble of the boy’s chin as if trying not to cry.   
In Britain, they had a name for children like his feral child, a name as old as the standing stones that dotted the lush green land.   
Changeling. The child of the fae. Some said it was because the human child had been overlooked, allowing the fae to whisk them away. Alfred though, preferred the version told by his grandmother. That a Changeling was but an old faery, sent to this world to die.  
Pursing his lips, Alfred found himself at a crossroads.   
It was not the first in his lifetime and he was not a fool enough to believe it to be the last.

The choice was between the ways that he knew or to trust the modern way of dealing with things. Alfred had tried the modern way before. Bruce had broken his wrist for the first time, jumping out of a therapist’s window. But then, the old fashioned way hadn’t helped much either. For that was the way of life, in the end. Choice. Even doing nothing was a choice and those choices, no matter how small, created ripples. The ripples became new streams that lead further along to carve the next direction that life would lead.   
A small groan dragged Alfred out from his thoughts and he watched the crease in the boy’s brow deepen, fingers clutching at his blanket. Dry lips mumbled something incoherent as Jason turned his face away from the pillow, his expression that of pain.  
‘Stop.’ He gasped, toes curling as legs drew up as if trying to get away from his unseen horror.  
Closing his eyes, Alfred felt the buttons weighing heavy in his hand and just as when he’d made a choice in battle, he prayed to God that it was at least the most merciful one. Quietly, he made his way over and placed the buttons by Jason’s head, before sitting down next to him and smoothing back the boy’s hair.   
Alfred’s silence felt right, fitting almost, in light of the choice he had made.


	10. Ite, missa est.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas comes and Dick lands back in the nest and seems to have gained Jason’s trust.
> 
> However, the price that trust comes with is not what Dick was prepared for. At all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, my dissertation is in.
> 
> Hopefully only a few months left and I’m qualified.
> 
> Plus for you guys is I now have time to write!!

Jason woke up to loud voices and being violently shaken.  
Shouting out in alarm the boy hit out, successfully sending his attacker careering off the bed and onto the floor.  
‘Fucking pervert!’ Jason screeched, following the unknown man’s decent to pummel him some more. The man let out a screech of his own and fought back with a flamboyant skill that outweighed Jason’s talents by far.   
It didn’t take long until Jason was pinned against a chest with hot angry tears rolling down his cheeks.  
‘Enough Jason. What the hell was that Little Wing?’  
Blinking, Jason frowned at the nickname before tilting his chin upwards so he could peer at his captor through thick eyelashes.  
‘Dickface?’

Dick arched an eyebrow and gave Jason one of the looks adults gave him when they didn’t understand. The look served only to rile him up again and Jason restarted his bid for freedom.  
‘Get off me! Alfred! Fucking pervert. Let go! ALFRED DICK’S BEING A DICK!’ Jason bellowed, continuing his loud protesting even when his brother slapped his hand over his mouth.  
‘Jay, ssh! No one knows I’m here. What gives buddy?’ Dick said, the expression on his face turning to a different one that Jason didn’t understand the meaning of. He was probably in trouble again. Settling down once more, he sniffed and surrendered to slumping against his brother and waiting to be released. Dick couldn’t hold him all day. Even if that idea did seem rather appealing. He’d never really been held much. Jason wasn’t that easy to hold truth be told.  
For reasons unknown, Dick decided to sit down on Jason’s bed and move his little brother to sit on his lap.   
Jason didn’t like that. Jason didn’t like sitting in laps. However, he also knew when to just let it be.   
‘If I let go, are you going to quit trying to kill me, Little Wing?’  
Letting out a heavy sigh through his nose, Jason shot his brother a very dark look before nodding slowly. His mind usefully pointing out that Alfred shouted when he got blood on his bedroom carpet.

The grip on his arms left and the urge to leap up and run was overwhelming, but Jason really didn’t want to be captured again so he subtly leant away from Dick’s chest.   
‘I’ve got a surprise for you Little Wing, close your eyes.’ Dick whispered into the boy’s ear with a grin. He expected Jason to smile back but instead he looked like he wanted to burst into tears. When Jason closed his eyes, Dick was pretty sure that it wasn’t excitement he was shaking with.   
‘Merry Christmas little brother.’ Dick whispered, before pressing a small present into his hands. Jason frowned and blinked his eyes open. He stared down at the package in surprise before glancing up at his brother in confusion.  
‘Well? Open it.’ Dick practically squealed. The pitch so high it hurt Jason’s ears and he was forced to release the package to shelter them with his hands. He’d forgotten how loud Dick was, a constant noise that was always a few decibels too high. Frowning, Jason glanced down at his present and his stomach lurched with trepidation. He wasn’t sure what it was that was worrying him. Was it the sense of the unknown as he stared at the brightly coloured paper or maybe the memory of the horrible crinkly sound and the harsh feel of the paper on his hands? 

The sad, kicked puppy look, crossed Dick’s face and Jason hung his head in shame. He’d messed up again and Dick had only just come back home.  
‘It’s a Christmas present Little Wing? Look.’   
Taking charge like he always did, Dick slowly ripped away the paper as if Jason was some dumb toddler who didn’t know what to do. Wincing at the noise of the paper ripping, Jason closed his eyes tightly and buried his face into Dick’s chest.   
‘Look, Little Wing.’  
There, sat in his Dick’s hand was an exact replica of Dick’s stuffed monkey. Jason had taken a liking to it during his last visit which may or may not have ended in a couple of arguments.  
‘It’s- he’s like Abu?’ Jason whispered, eyes widening in awe as he grabbed for the monkey and pressed the soft fabric against his cheek. ‘He’s gonna be called Cam.’  
‘Cam!’ Dick said in astonishment before shaking his head. ‘Jay, Cam is my monkey? Why don’t you call him Abu? My monkey is called Cam, for the love of-‘  
‘No. Your monkey looks like Abu.’ Jason stated matter of factly, completely missing the fact that you can’t just go around renaming other people’s treasured belongings. ‘Ima call my monkey Cam. My monkey looks more like a Cam.’  
It was on the tip of Dick’s tongue to ask where he heard the name ‘Cam’ because it sure as hell wasn’t after the real monkey Dick had hand fed fruit to! Forcing a smile, Dick pressed a kiss to Jason’s curls and nodded in utter resignation. Out of all the villains in the world, apparently, this short stack was his ultimate pain in the ass.  
‘Sure. Whatever.’

Jason didn’t appear to pick up on his brother’s exasperated tone and grinned up at him before wiggling free from his lap prison. He figured Dick wasn’t likely to haul him back now. He stared down at his monkey in wonder, his very own monkey. He’d had a teddy before but he had to leave that at Ma Gunn’s because it didn’t belong to him. This monkey belonged to him. Studying the stitching, Jason’s eyes widened before he looked back over at his shoulder at Dick, who just arched an eyebrow. There were so many things he wanted to say.   
He wanted to thank Dick.  
He wanted to apologise for any role he played in his brother leaving.  
He wanted to ask his brother to stay, just for a little while.  
‘Mm-‘   
All that came out was that stupid humming. Jason words became tangled up in such an integrate knot he didn’t know what to say first. Dick didn’t mind though. He just chuckled, the sound light and joyful, before winking at him.  
‘You’re welcome Little Wing. I’m glad you like it. I thought of you the entire time. That’s how the magic works.’

Jason frowned and looked back down at Cam’s button eyes and stitched on smile in puzzlement. He didn’t understand what the magic was? Was it like Robin magic?   
Closing his eyes, Jason brushed his monkey against his cheek again and thought back to that first day in the Wendy House. He re-imagined telling Dick his secret, of feeling that weight on his chest melting away, only this time, Dick smiled.  
Dickface said he’d protect him, for some reason.

‘Dd-Dickie?’ Jason whispered, turning to look up at Dick from beneath his eyelashes. ‘Can- I-um- broken- my computer.’   
Dick frowned and cocked his head at him in confusion, eyes searching. Dick’s head ran circles just as fast as Jason’s did, although his little brother never seemed to realise that.  
‘You’re computer’s broken? Well, why don’t you tell Bruce?’ Dick asked, watching his brother suddenly turn bright red. A smirk tugged at Dick’s lips and his eyes danced in light hearted mirth. Oh the joys of being a horny kid on the cusp of puberty and not knowing which porn sites to not click on.  
Dick remembered the first time he’d stared in horror as a, rather attractive, naked woman bounced on the Batcomputer. It took him two hours (and a bucket load of anxiety provoked sweat) to get rid of.  
Standing up, Dick brushed at the creases in his jeans and motioned towards Jason’s sitting room with a wink.  
‘Come on then Little Wing show me the damage.’ Dick said, watching Jason blink in shock and take a step back.  
‘N-now?’ Jason spluttered, his thoughts teetering and swirling out of control. He hadn’t planned on Dick wanting to fix his ‘computer’ right now this second. Chuckling, Dick shrugged and took hold of his hand and tugged him along.  
‘Yeah, now. Honestly, don’t look so frightened Jay, I’ve fixed loads of these problems before.’  
Frowning, Jason nodded along and tried not to panic.  
What problem was Dick talking about? Did he already know? Had he done this before?  
If not, what sort of computer problems did Dick have to keep winking at him like that?

A few minutes later had Jason sat watching his life circle the drain as Dick fired up the desktop and frowned at it. This had to be the worst impulsive idea Jason had ever had in his life. It’s was getting harder to breathe and his hands were getting clammy the longer he clenched and unclenched them.  
‘Um Jay? Your computer is fine? There’s nothing wrong with it.’ Dick remarked, turning from the desk to study his brother, who seemed unable to quit fidgeting never mind look at him. ‘But- you knew that? Didn’t you? Little Wing?’  
Jason didn’t dare lift his eyes.   
His head felt like it was made out of lead but slowly, he was able to force himself to nod.  
Pursing his lips, Dick glanced back at the boobless desktop, before moving to sit on the couch with his brother, eyes searching, worrying.  
‘Little Wing, you- you can tell me anything buddy. I’ll listen, I promise.’ Dick said, trying to catch Jason’s wandering eye.   
Finally, Jason managed to drag his eyes up to look at Dick’s face. His perfect face with hair that never looked messy and eyes that were always just so god damn accepting. It was so comforting it was confusing. Sometimes , Jason wanted to just pummel that face to stop that look.   
On the other hand, Jason couldn’t help but reach for it like a sinner towards the light of Heaven.  
His lips parted.

The bedroom door opened with a sharp knock.  
‘Alfred!’ Jason gasped.  
Alfred looked between both boys with growing interest. Jason looked as if he was about to cry and like he’d been caught red handed all at the same time. Dick however, seemed beyond uncomfortable.  
‘Good morning Master Jason, and Master Richard, what a pleasant surprise. I shall inform your father of your arrival, I am sure he shall be thrilled.’ Pausing, for dramatic effect more than anything else, Alfred eyed each boy critically, watching each of them squirm under his unyielding gaze. ‘May I ask what is going on in here?’  
Jason blinked from Alfred to Dick before settling on staring at his computer.  
‘My computer was broken. Dickface looked at it. It’s not.’  
Raising an eyebrow, Alfred hummed thoughtfully before turning to face Dick, who was trying hard to find a way to master becoming invisible.  
‘Is that so? I would suspect Master Bruce would have been a better choice, don’t you agree Master Richard?’  
‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m just going to go and unpack my stuff.’ Dick mumbled in a fluster, getting up to leave he patted Jason on the shoulder as he walked past. 

Dick almost managed to escape when Jason’s bedroom door closed and a hand landed firmly on his shoulder.  
‘I am so pleased to see you home again Master Richard. Your father will be pleased also.’   
‘You’ve already said that Alfred.’ Dick replied, turning to look at the butler, who just narrowed his eyes, as if daring him to try and lie. ‘I’ll go apologise to him in a bit okay? Just stop doing the weird death eye thing!’  
An eyebrow not quite turning grey raised and Dick winced, the hand on his shoulder squeezed slightly and Alfred’s expression grew more solemn.  
‘Master Richard it pains me deeply to ask, but I must request something of you.’

Dick just blinked. He’d never ever seen the man look so serious before and he’d seen some pretty serious stuff. Topped by Jason, today was fast becoming a rather whelming day.   
And people asked him why he never wanted to go home!  
‘Your brother aided Master Bruce with a case sir, but regrettably, your father believes that you are the culprit, not young Master Jason. If he enquiries, I need to ask that you play along sir. Forgive me.’  
Smirking, Dick jostled the duffle on his shoulder and shrugged. Was that all? Sheesh, the way Alfred was looking he’d thought Jason had killed someone or something. Not that his brother would ever do such a thing. At least now he knew what the whole broken computer thing was about and that is was over something so small was more than a relief.  
‘The kid skipped curfew to play solo already? Wow. Sure, I’ll keep Little Wing’s secret. It’s what a big brother does right? Keep the little guy out of trouble and all that jazz.’ Dick replied with a warm chuckle and a wink.  
Alfred couldn’t help but be compelled to smile in return before nodding and waving the boy away as a sign of his release.  
‘Exactly sir. You are sure to be a very fine big brother indeed.’  
Grinning, Dick nodded enthusiastically before literally skipping off and disappearing into his bedroom a few doors down.

Dick didn’t really see Jason, or Bruce for that matter, until Christmas Eve. He’d arrived early on the 22nd December but slept through most of it, went out on patrol and then spent the next day out with friends. It was only when Barbara had given him the stink eye, that Dick thought that maybe spending at least some of the holiday season at the Manor might be a good idea. It was not that he was actively avoiding his home, he just had so many other things to do.   
Naturally, it was Jason that he heard chatting away as he descended the servants stairs on his hunt for breakfast.   
‘It’s my Christmas present. I gots it early but I don’t mind. Dick does stupid stuff sometimes so I’m just gonna go with it. That’s right Alfie? Just go with the flow like you said?’   
Dick couldn’t help but snort in amusement. His brother could come across so self assured but underneath, he was so very unsure of the world around him.  
‘That would be my advice sir, yes. May I have a look? Ah, Master Richard has put a lot of work into it, just look at the stitching. Exquisite! You must mean a lot to him sir.’ Alfred replied, clearly inspecting Jason’s monkey and Dick felt his cheeks burning. He remembered cutting up one of his living room cushions because he thought the soft, red velvet would be something his brother would like the feel of.

‘D-Dick made this? On his own?’ Jason’s little voice gasped and Dick’s smile grew to hear the wonder in the boy’s voice. It made all those pin pricks to his poor abused thumb worth it.  
‘Why of course he did Master Jason. It is a very old tradition of Master Richard’s family I believe. The toy is sewn by hand whilst thinking about the receiver, and how much one loves and admires them. I am of the understanding that the belief is that the hopes and dreams sewn inside guide the receiver as they move through life.’  
‘B-but why? Why did Dick do that for me?’  
‘Because, young sir, despite being an utterly feral child, you deserve kindness.’  
Dick could see clearly in his mind’s eye how Jason would suck on his lip, eyes growing hazy with confusion as he tried to make sense of something before-  
‘But who decides who is deserving of kindness?’  
‘You’re heart Master Jason.’  
‘But Alfie the heart’s function is to pump blood around the body?’  
‘Alas, with all my medical knowledge, I never knew that to be the function of a human heart.’  
‘Are you being sarcastic?’  
Dick chuckled and opened he kitchen door at the sound of Alfred’s exasperated sigh. 

Jason was stood on a stool stirring a large saucepan of scrambled egg, while Alfred buttered rounds of toast. Jason’s Cam was sat on the counter, apparently reading a recipe book.  
‘Morning campers!’ Dick called out cheerfully, letting out a huge belly laugh when Jason span around so fast he almost fell off the stool if it wasn’t for Alfred catching him. ‘Still need to work on your balance there Little Wing.’  
Screwing up his face in the most hilarious pout, Jason huffed and turned back to his cooking in a strop.  
‘Do not! I’m the best Robin.’  
‘Sure you are.’ Dick agreed, mainly due to knowing that some arguments were just futile. ‘Mmm something’s smelling good!’

‘Wash your hands Master Richard.’ Alfred chimed in and Jason grinned at the scalding tone.  
‘Alfie said scrambled egg is your favourite but I made it better.’  
‘Better?’ Dick enquired eyeballing Alfred, who looked rather pained before nodding his agreement. Jason however seemed to not notice and carried on his explanation as he ladled the golden gloop on top of the plates.  
‘I decided to use a pinch of nutmeg, 3 tablespoons of cream and a clove of garlic along with the usual ingredients. It should be amazeballs.’  
‘Should? So you’ve never actually made scrambled egg before?’ Dick asked as he was guided over to the table by Alfred. The eggs smelt amazing but he couldn’t help but feel a little anxious about being Jason’s guinea pig. He silently reminded himself that Jason was not a master poisoner as the plate was pushed under his nose by his grinning brother.  
‘Don’t be stupid. I made scrambled egg before just not with my finishing touches. They will work though.’ Jason assured him with such certainty it was hard not to nod along. Taking a small bite, Dick noticed that Jason was sat down opposite with his own portion, staring at him eating.   
It wasn’t hard to smile and give his baby brother a wink of encouragement. These were the best damn eggs that he had ever tasted and he didn’t hesitate to say so. Jason lost Dick somewhere between eggs and 1972 but he understood the general gist. Dick liked his eggs. Grinning Jason basked in the praise and took a large mouthful himself, happy that Dick approved of something he’d done.

‘Master Dick? I was wondering if you would find time in your busy schedule to take your brother Christmas shopping?’ Alfred called over from where he was pouring himself a cup of tea. Frowning, Dick swallowed a mouthful of eggy toast and took a sip of coffee.  
‘Um sure? Cutting it a bit fine aren’t you Little Wing?’ Dick knew as soon as the words left his lips that he had fallen into a trap.  
Jason shot Alfred a look of betrayal before pushing away his breakfast in a sulk.  
‘Don’t wanna go shopping!’ He mumbled into his chest.  
‘Master Jason must I again remind you that this is not about your wants and needs. Christmas is a time for giving.’ Alfred scolded only for Jason to shake his head and close his eyes tightly.  
‘Christmas is a time when we remember the birth of Christ and reflect on God’s generosity.’ Dick said with a small smile. Taking a final slurp of coffee, he tried and predictably failed to maintain eye contact with his brother. ‘Do we not also exchange gifts is to follow the example of the magi? To give a gift is to remember how on that first Christmas night in Bethlehem, God gave us the greatest gift of all.’  
Jason blinked back at Dick in surprise before chewing on his lip and looking down at his monkey pensively.   
‘It was Our Lady the Virgin Mary who laboured all night to gift us Christ, not God, that’s what my Mamà says. Men take the credit for everything.’ He said with a very serious tone of voice before leaving the table and wandering off, his monkey held limply in one hand.

Dick swallowed thickly and looked over at Alfred, who actually seemed shocked for once.  
‘Did- did he just mention his mom?’  
Alfred blinked once, twice and the British stoic persona was back in place and he returned to drinking his tea.  
‘I believe he did sir. Does one remember how to attend midnight mass or would you like to be excused to re-educate?’ He replied with just a small smile of amusement.   
‘Why would I go to- oh! You mean I should take Jay? Where?’ Dick stumbled over his words, not entirely sure of himself.  
‘Hmm, with the boy’s taste for the dramatics, I would say that any high church would do sir.’ Alfred commented flippantly, rising from his spot by the stove he began to collect the used dishes. ‘I believe it shall do the both of you some good.’  
Dick wasn’t sure why he was being included in whatever intervention this was but any excuse to avoid Bruce for a little longer was good for him. Nodding, he helped Alfred load the dishwasher thoughtfully.  
‘I could take him to Gotham Cathedral? Is he Catholic though Alfred? I don’t know, maybe if-’  
‘Master Richard? You’re rosary is currently decorating the rear view mirror of your car.’  
Dick halted his panicked tirade and nodded slowly in understanding. Hefting a very heavy sigh, he swiped a couple of cookies from the jar and made his way back towards the servants stairs.

Jason’s aversion to buying Bruce a Christmas present had nothing to do with his personal feelings towards the man apparently. Instead the boy had explained how he didn’t understand how he could gift something to someone that was bought with their own money.  
‘That’s not gift giving, that’s running an errand. I gots no other money.’ Jason had grumbled as he stared out of the window of his brother’s car.  
Smiling, Dick nodded along and offered to buy Bruce’s present with his money and Jason accepted the idea. Odd as it was, Dick couldn’t help but think that he had a point.  
Alfred had spoken about the ordeal that was taking Jason to the mall and there was no way Dick was prepared for the social embarrassment that came with his little brother acting weird. So instead, he’d taken them to a little market further downtown.  
Jason’s eyes had lit up as the neighbourhood become tougher and rougher. He seemed to be pleased to be taken back to a stomping ground that was familiar and Dick gave himself a pat on the back. He’d had a feeling that familiar would mean less weird Jason and no flipping out.  
Normal, not weird Jason was exactly what Dick got once they had left the car and walked over to the market. Only, if this was normal Jason? Dick would prefer him organising the roasted chestnuts in size order and taking the ear off the lady on the book stall. Dick would prefer that annoying humming he did than the deathly silence that surrounded his brother. Instead of his lively self, Jason had pulled his hood over his face and huddled just behind Dick, eyes wide and searching as if they were working a case. Feeling just as uncomfortable, Dick decided to just take Jason by the hand and march them over to the nearest stall. The quicker they bought a gift and went the better. This Jason was wrong and Dick didn’t know why and if there was one thing Dick could never tolerate, it was not knowing why.

The question of why distracted Dick for the rest of the day. They’d bought Bruce’s present and then Dick decided to get the hell out of dodge and drive hem back up town for dinner. Bobbing the straw in his milkshake, Dick watched Jason hum that weird hum of his as he ate his chilli dog. Blue eyes bright and alive once more as he kicked his heels against the back of the booth.  
Something was wrong and Dick didn’t know why.  
Back at the market, Jason should have been happy like he was now. Instead he became withdrawn and more and more hyper-vigilant the longer they stayed.  
‘Where we goin’ now? Back home?’ Jason asked, jolting Dick out his thoughts. Forcing a smile, Dick shrugged and motioned out of the window to the silhouette of Gotham Cathedral in the distance.  
‘I thought you might like to come to mass with me? It starts at eleven, I checked the times before you raise that eyebrow!’  
Pursing his lips, Jason stopped kicking he back of the booth and took a final slurp of his milkshake.  
‘I would like that. It’s good that you checked the times because it changes from church to church. My mamà was sick one year and Da tried to takes me. Make her happy. He thought it started at midnight but it didn’t, we missed it. We gots Mamá her medicine and went home.’  
‘Medicine? I thought-‘  
‘Mamà was a junkie.’ Jason interrupted with a rather sad smirk. ‘When I was a kid though? I used to think heroin was medicine. Mamà got sick and then she took heroin and got better again. It made sense. Also, heroin, it’s kinda like heroine? The female hero in books.’  
Dick tried, oh he tried so hard, but a small chuckle still escaped. His Little Wing was just far too precious for this world.  
‘Sorry Jay, but is rather funny. How about I get you some ice cream to apologise for laughing?’  
Jason frowned and seemed confused as to why his brother would be apologising before turning to grin toothily at him regardless.  
‘Yeah go on then.’

Midnight mass actually wasn’t as humiliating as Dick had first feared. Since Bruce took him in, Dick could count the times he had attended mass on one hand. He’d never been confirmed which was a guilt Dick felt whenever he thought about his mother. It wasn’t that Bruce refused, he just never thought about things like that, little things that didn’t matter in his world view. Dick supposed he could have asked, but Robin was an addiction just as potent as heroin and he just became too busy. His rosary beads got wrapped around his rear view mirror when he’d left Gotham and there they had stayed.   
Dick had forgotten about the basin of holy water until Jason had happily skipped over and dipped his fingers into it. Dick had hung back for a bit after that, just watching Jason quickly become the little darling of the congregation. It was amusing to see the confused embarrassment on his face when old ladies pinched his cheeks and men ruffled his hair all wishing him a ‘Merry Christmas’.  
The mass itself passed surprisingly smoothly.  
Somehow, Dick could remember when to stand, sit or kneel and the familiar words found their way to his lips as if he’d always spoken them. Shoulders relaxing, Dick felt almost at home, that he’d found his roots once more. There was a definitely a sense of camaraderie when he’d glanced at a smug Jason whilst they both showed off their Latin skills. There was no denying the cathartic feel of belting out ‘Joy to the World’ when the service came to its conclusion.  
Dick forgot about not knowing why and by the end he felt nothing but content joy. His life had been a world of sequins, greasepaint and tin cans on an open fire the last time he shared his faith with another and to share it with his new brother was almost euphoric. He couldn’t help but genuinely mean it when he wished the priest a Merry Christmas at the door and walked out into the night with a smile on his face.

‘Donation Grayson!’ Jason hissed under his breath, tugging at his hand to get his attention. Blinking, Dick frowned down at him, before the realisation dawned and his mouth formed a silent ‘oh’.  
Letting out a very put upon sigh, Jason shook his head and slumped down to sit on the steps before waving him off.  
‘Go, Padre will understand. Just don’t do a Bruce yeah? Just ‘cause the cathedral needs a new roof don’t mean you gotta pay for the entire freaking thing!’ Jason griped, but an amused smirk graced his lips as Dick jogged back inside.   
‘Jason?’  
Lifting his head, Jason’s eyes widened a boy in a red bobble hat walked over to him, fiddling nervously with the hem of his jacket sleeves.  
‘M-Mickey?’

As Jason said, the priest was more than understanding, and even though Dick followed Jason’s orders to not buy the roof, seemed over the moon with his donation. The man smiled and inclined his head towards Dick before looking out of the doors at the city beyond.  
‘Might I suggest finding young Jason?’ The priest said before swallowing and giving Dick a very dark look. ‘Watch out for the boy Mr Grayson.So not leave him unattended like you have done.’  
Dick opened his mouth to ask what had the priest so spooked and how he knewJason, when he saw he look in wise hazel eyes. A look he had seen many a time. A look that told Nightwing to run and run fast. That’s exactly what Dick did.  
Tearing down the cathedral steps Dick gazed around him in horror.  
Jason was gone.  
Jason had been right there, sat smirking at him and now he was gone!

Dick felt a terror similar to that when he’d stood and watched his parents fall to the ground, only this time, there was no body to watch falling. There was nothing.  
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.  
He was meant to keep Jason safe.  
That’s what big brothers did.  
He’d failed.  
Failed Jason.  
Failed Bruce.  
Failed Alfred.  
Failed himself.  
Gasping for breath, Dick buried his head in his hands, he’d have let out a sob of anguish if he could only just breathe.   
The world slowed and swirled.  
His mother’s eyes widening in terror as she realised what was happening. His father staring up at him as if saying good bye. Dick could smell wet grass, sugar and sawdust. He gripped the rope holding up his platform, it felt rough against his hand.  
‘No!’ Dick roared, watching in horror as the world fell and him, powerless to stop it.  
‘Dick!’  
‘Not the time to start mouthing off at me, kid!’  
Blinking, the circus blended in with the front of Gotham Cathedral.   
Jason!   
Only Jason could yell Dick like that. 

There was the sound of boots scraping against tarmac and Dick was off.  
Tearing around the corner Dick froze at the sight before him.  
Jason was being shoved up against the wall of the cathedral by an unidentified man.   
Another kid in a red bobble hat was leaning against a cab looking beyond terrified.  
There wasn’t any further clues as to what the hell was going on but Jason was kicking, clawing and hissing at the man like a rabid cat.  
Frowning, Dick stepped pointedly into the light of a street lamp and folded his arms.  
‘Jay there you are! I thought I told you to wait on the steps?’ He called out casually as if his brother had just snuck away to play with friends. Jason blinked over at Dick before doing some silent conversation thing with the boy by the cab. The man on the other hand, turned to look at the newcomer but his hands did not let go of Jason’s collar.  
‘You that Grayson kid? Mr Wayne’s ward?’ He drawled and his voice alone sent a shiver down Dick’s spine but he just smiled charmingly and winked at him.  
‘The one and only. Would you mind telling me what you’re doing with my brother? Mr Wayne will want to know all the details when I have to explain the bruises to him.’ 

Jason continued with his silent conversation with bobble hat boy whilst the man turned a violent shade of purple.  
‘My uncle was just standing up for me Mr Grayson sir? Jason was trying to, um, steal um, m-my hat.’ Bobble hat boy mumbled, a shaky hand reaching up to hold his hat as if scared Jason was going to try again.  
‘This true?’ Dick asked, shifting his gaze back to his brother, who seemed mortified at having to agree with the statement. Dick couldn’t understand it, why would Jason try to steal that grubby old hat? Shifting his gaze to the man, he squared his stance and cocked an eyebrow. ‘In which case, I offer sincere apologies on my brother’s behalf. I suggest you let him go now, no harm has been done.’  
The man seemed physically pained as he loosened his grip on Jason’s jacket collar. Dick watched bobble hat boy almost slump against the car and a weight collided with his side. Looking down, he arched an eyebrow at Jason clinging onto his waist as if his life depended on it, his brother was shaking an awful lot for someone who’d only been caught stealing a stupid hat.  
‘You should keep him on a tighter leash Grayson. Can’t let a boy like him out and about. God knows what sticky pies his fingers will end up in.’ The man spat, almost angry and Jason inexplicably shrank away from the tone of voice.

Enough was enough.   
Dick was done playing the polite rich boy. Patting Jason on the shoulder he released himself from his brother’s iron tight grasp.  
Dick towards the man he regarded with such distaste it created a sour, slimy feeling in his belly. Without warning, Dick clenched his fist and struck him with everything he had.   
Both Jason and bobble hat boy shrieked in unison as the man was sent hurtling to the ground.   
Dick just wiped his fist on his pants before smirking and walking back over to Jason.  
‘I don’t know what you thought you were doing, but you listen and you listen good. I find you so much as a stones throw away from my brother? I’ll kill you.’ He called over his shoulder.

Taking Jason firmly by the hand, he began leading him back out of the alley towards his car, his pace steady and eyes set straight ahead. He didn’t dare look at Jason’s tear stained cheeks else he would be doing something he’d regret. Dick had threatened to kill before but this time felt different and less like an empty threat. It frightened him.

‘D-Dickie? ‘m’sorry.’ Jason mumbled, practically jogging along to keep up with his brother’s steps.  
Inhaling sharply, Dick stopped suddenly as they finally reached the car and pulled his brother into a tight hug, tears of relief prickling his eyes. What would have happened if he’d been a few minutes late finding him?  
‘Who was that man Little Wing?’ Dick asked, pulling away he held his brother brother firmly by the shoulders. ‘Don’t you lie to me! I know when you lie Jason. That hat was a lie. So tell me! Who was that man trying to hurt you?’  
Jason drew in a shaky breath and let out a sob that sounded more like a whimper before looking away and closing his eyes tightly.  
‘Uncle.’ He yelled, feeling the word leap from his throat and fly out to echo around the sacred place.   
Dick frowned, and looked back over at the alley, to see a yellow cab pull away, this apparent uncle sat in the back with bobble hat kid.  
‘Your uncle? But that other kid- was he your cousin?’ Dick asked, utterly confused because that kid was blonde with green eyes. 

Shaking his head pitifully, Jason wiped his nose on his sleeve and looked longingly at the car door.  
‘I w-wanna go home.’  
Shaking his head, Dick tried to look more grown up, far more grown up than he felt right now.  
‘We will, when you stop lying to me. Who was that man? Don’t make me tell Alfred!’  
Maybe the threat had been a step to far?  
Jason paled and the shaking got worse, gasping for breath, the boy slumped to his knees and began sobbing. His words so jumbled up with tears Dick couldn’t make sense of them. Shaking his head, Dick pulled his brother into a hug again and peppered his cheeks with kisses.  
‘Hush, Jason, Little Wing hush it’s okay. I’m not mad’  
‘Yy-yes y-you are!’ Jason argued, tearful blue eyes gazing up at him desperately. For the life of him Dick had no idea what to do? All he had was this gut instinct to find out who this man was. To find out the why.  
‘Who is he Little Wing? Please?’  
‘I didn’t lie.’ Jason mumbled, hiding his face in Dick’s chest. ‘He is my uncle, just not a real one. He- my social worker.’  
‘Social worker?’ Frowning, Dick squeezed his brother once more before guiding him into the car as if he were glass. ‘Pretty sucky social worker if you ask me.’  
Jason smirked at that and nodded his head in agreement.

Dick started up the engine and began the journey back home.  
Dick didn’t like not knowing why.  
Dick didn’t like Jason being hurt.  
Dick was going to have a little chat with Bruce about this apparent social worker.


	11. Beyond the Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry being so absent.  
> I am a few weeks away from qualifying now so *fingers crossed* I shall have time to write again!

Snow fell gracefully instead of the blizzard like torrents that had fallen during Christmas itself.  
This was Bruce’s favourite time of the holiday season.  
It was mundane, the space between Christmas and New Year. No one really did much or even thought of doing much, criminals included. Yet, there was still something special and warm about it.  
Sipping at his umpteenth coffee so far today, Bruce smiled to himself as he watched his sons playing together in the snow. It was like something out of a sappy movie.  
Dick was literally cartwheeling around trying to entice Jason into a snowball fight, while Jason stood and sucked on the zip of his jacket looking very put upon. 

Chuckling warmly, Bruce rolled his eyes when Jason turned away from his brother and walked over to the frozen fountain, taking off his gloves to touch the snow piled there. Dick shrieked and dashed over like a mother hen as he picked up the discarded gloves and shoved them back on his brother’s hands.  
‘No Little Wing! You have to keep these on.’ Dick lightly scolded, ducking his head to try and catch his brother’s eye. He must of failed because next he was tugging the zip out of Jason’s mouth and running his own gloved thumb over the younger boy’s chin. ‘Oh no, now look Little Wing you’ve made it all red. Alfred will have to put cream on it.’  
Jason huffed and shot Dick a look of pure betrayal, arms folding tightly across his chest in a sulk.  
‘Alfred said I don’t have t’have cream if I stop sucking on my lip, not my zip!’ He argued back but with rosy cheeks and a fleecy NASA hat, it was hard for the little guy to look even remotely threatening.  
‘Well, yeah, but dude? It’s the same thing? They even sound the same.’ Dick tried to explain, but Jason just cocked his head at him. Sighing, Dick gave up and leant down to pick up a hand full of snow and threw it at his brother. ‘Come on grumpy, play with me!’  
Dick cackled as he is ran off, leaving a completely flabbergasted Jason to stare after him.

Bruce tilted the window open slightly so he could catch every word his sons said to one another. Jason and Dick were fast becoming an odd combination.   
They seemed to have an understanding of how the other ticked, that left Bruce scratching his head.  
Jason quickly caught up with recent events and his face turned a vibrant shade of red. Stubbornly taking off his gloves, he scooped up a large ball of snow. Being the budding marksman that he was, Jason waited until Dick ran past before taking his shot.  
Dick squealed as the snow hit him square in the face, and Jason laughed.  
There was something about Jason’s laugh, the one of pure joy. It was like electricity, a light that attracted everyone in the near vicinity to him. A laugh that made Bruce smile even on his darkest nights. And unknown to even the Batman, the darkest of nights were soon to come. The holiday period ended. Dick went back to the Titans and Jason? Jason went back to school, Bruce breathed easy when Jason was at school. So long as the boy stayed put, he was safe within those fours walls for at least six whole hours.

Children of various ages from preteen right up to the seniors preparing to leave for college meandered about the frozen yard. A couple of games of soccer were underway and there was the odd couple of boys chasing each other around shrieking. There was of course the signature rebels smoking behind the bike sheds, because even the rich had the few bad eggs.  
Humming, Jason turned away from the window and returned to reading War and Peace. He supposed he was a bad egg, just a bad egg that spent his recess in the library. Ms Beckett, the librarian who always smelled like a wet blanket, once told Jason that he would end up with tickets if he didn’t spend some time outside. Jason paid her little attention after that stupid comment.  
Rickets was a childhood condition caused by a lack of calcium or vitamin D. Vitamin D came from the sun but there were also foods such as cereal and margarine that were fortified with it. Also, Jason still had to go outside and run around for games, so there really wasn’t that much of a risk. If he hadn’t got rickets before, he was very unlikely too now he was a rich kid with Alfred on his case.

‘Jace? Earth to Jason!’  
Blinking, Jason looked up from his book to see a girl with thick brown hair tied up in a ponytail, hazel eyes and cherry red lips.  
Rena.  
Jason always thought her to be quite pretty. Her smile made his belly feel like it was made of warm goo and his blood seemed to constantly vacate his brain in her presence.  
Moving his school bag to sit across his lap, Jason cleared his throat and offered his friend a half smile.  
‘Hey Rena.’  
Beaming at Jason acknowledging her, Rena moved closer to the table and cocked her head towards his book.   
‘What’re you reading? You were miles away?’  
‘War and Peace. I was thinking about Rickets.’ Pausing he flicked his eyes over Rena critically. ‘You probably won’t get it. You do track.’  
‘Erm, okay. Thanks. I guess?’ Rena replied hesitantly, chewing on her bottom lip she glanced at the seat next to Jason before looking back at him hopefully. ‘Can I sit with you?’  
‘Yeah? No one else is sitting here?’ Jason replied, confused as to why Rena would ask and even more confused that instead of sitting opposite she practically jumped into the seat next to his. 

Shaking his head Jason returned to his book, it was a good job he’d persuaded her away from drugs. The girl was an enigma as it was but then, Dick said girls were Venus. Maybe no girls should take drugs ever, just in case they were all alien enigmas? Christ knows what would happen!  
‘Would you like to share my strawberries with me?’   
Biting back a groan of frustration, Jason looked away from his book and glanced at the tub of strawberries Rena was offering.   
‘It’s okay. Alfred made me lunch and I’ve already eaten it. You eat them, don’t want y’gettin’ hungry.’  
‘Oh! Okay.’ Rena replied looking rather crestfallen. Jason frowned at this before shaking his head and returning to his book. Dick was right, definitely from Venus.  
A few moments of companionable silence passed. This was one of the many reasons why Jason liked Rena. As well as being smart, funny and very beautiful, she also didn’t insist on continuous conversation like the other kids did. She was quite happy to just sit next to him and do her own thing.  
Jason liked that. That’s why him and Rena went together so well, like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle.  
‘It’s physics next period.’ Rena suddenly spoke up, just as Jason was admiring how silent she was.  
‘We’ve had the same timetable since September.’ Jason replied without looking up from his book.   
‘We’re lab partners in physics.’ Rena exclaimed, that bright smile gracing her face once more and Jason frowned.  
‘Yes.’ He deadpanned, ignoring Rena when she looked disappointed and returned to eating strawberries.  
‘Dickie also says men explode if they set foot on Themyscira. Themyscira makes more sense than Venus. Humans can’t survive on Venus.’ Jason muttered under his breath, squinting at Rena over the top of his book, who just cocked an eyebrow at him.  
‘You’re weird Jace, y’know that right?’  
‘And yet you’re still here.’

A high pitched trill of laughter left Rena’s lips forcing Jason to drop his book and cover his ears with a grimace.  
‘You’re so funny Jace!’  
‘Mr Todd?’  
Rena’s mouth snapped shut and her eyes widened at the newcomer. Jason swallowed and frantically tried to run through his list of misdemeanours as he turned in his seat to face the principal. Whatever it was, she was not impressed. The woman hardly looked appealing at the best of times with thick, chestnut brown hair pulled up harshly into a classical bun and a cold, sharp eyes that squinted at him, as if he were something unpleasant yet unidentifiable she had found in the back of a supply closet.  
‘Yes, Principal Andrews?’ Jason forced out with his usual boyish grin.  
The woman’s frown deepened and she motioned towards the door.  
‘If you would please step this way? There is a matter I would like to discuss with you in private.’  
There was no evidence to suggest something was wrong, no logical explanation, yet despite that, the shakiness came back and a cold, sour feeling hissed in Jason’s stomach. Looking back at Rena, who nodded slightly in response, he turned back to Principal Andrews.  
‘It’s okay. We can talk here. Rena don’t mind. Must be pretty bad for you to come instead of a lackey?’ Jason replied with just a slight cockiness in his voice.  
‘Your lack of respect for this establishment and its staff astounds me, Mr Todd. Trust me I shall not miss you.’ Principal Andrews snapped back, losing her professional edge in a way only this boy managed to achieve.  
‘Mm-miss me?’ Jason stuttered to a stop, his words slamming against his head but not coming out. No, no please not again. He can’t be thrown away again can he? Bruce would have told him.  
‘Mr Todd, if you would please come with me.’  
Shaking his head, Jason felt wetness from where he had dug his nails into his forearm without noticing. Soft, slim fingers pulled them free from his arms and held his hand tightly in a silent show of solidarity.

Principal Andrews looked from Jason to Rena holding his hand with the same determination and sighed in defeat. So much for discretion.  
‘Very well. Mr Todd there is transport waiting to collect you from social services.’  
The words hung in the air as if they hadn’t needed to be spoken to exist.  
Jason got up without a second thought, tugging his hand free from Rena who’s mouth was moving but he didn’t hear what she was saying to him.  
He could see it now from the library window, the yellow taxi parked up by the entrance.  
‘You can’t. This isn’t legal. This isn’t how this works! You can’t let them take Jason like this. This isn’t how it works you pompous old crone!’ Rena screeched, glaring at Principal Andrews who just rested a hand firmly on Jason’s shoulder.  
‘A court order was faxed through everything is above board. I suggest you move along young lady this does not concern you.’  
‘Faxed? Faxed! This isn’t how it works!’ Rena continued to rage but Jason paid her no heed and followed the principal when she guided him out of the library towards the entrance.  
In his books, this would be when the protagonist would rise up in a brave moment of triumph.  
Fight the monster and slay it with their righteous blade of vengeance and justice.  
In stories, people listened when the protagonist spoke but that was stories.  
Jason knew that in reality he was unseen, unheard and unwanted.  
Robin could speak up but Jason couldn’t be Robin.  
Robin couldn’t exist without Batman and Bruce didn’t want him.  
He wasn’t good enough.

Rena watched Jason just walk away in bemusement. Hot tears stung her eyes and she could help but feel so useless, powerless. Jason had helped her, strong, funny Jason with eyes she could just stare at all day. He had helped her, but for some reason he was refusing to help himself.  
This wasn’t right.  
If Jason wasn’t going to save himself then by golly Rena was just going to have to do it for him.  
She had stood up and stormed across the library during her altercation with Principal Andrews, not that Jason seemed to notice. Turning back, she realised that Jason had literally just got up and left, his book still open at the page he’d been reading and most importantly, his school bag abandoned on the floor where it had fallen f on his lap.  
‘Loveable idiot.’ Rena muttered to herself with a small smile, she bent down and picked up the bag to rummage through it.  
Jason kept some weird ass stuff in his school bag; a bag of buttons, a pen knife, pepper spray, what looked like a smoke bomb and cable ties. What school boy needed any of that stuff?  
Finally her fingers brushed what she’d been looking for, Jason’s phone.  
Being a rich kid now, Jason had the latest model and Rena always found his bemused expression funny when he tried to use it, or when he’d snap it shut in frustration after speaking with Bruce Wayne.  
Jason’s relationship with his adopted father was good but there was a fragility there, an misunderstanding of each other that left Jason seething at times. Whenever Jason did stupid stuff it was always Bruce’s fault somewhere along the lines.  
So calling Bruce wasn’t the best idea. Especially if he had indeed handed Jason back over to social services. Rena didn’t really believe that to be the case but you never did know with adults.

Chewing her bottom lip, Rena scrolled through Jason’s contacts, trying to think of anyone who could possibly help.  
She paused over ‘Dickface’. Confused at first over who that could be until she remembered Jason’s older brother.  
Richard Grayson, everyone called him Dick. It seemed like Jason to call him something like Dickface. Loveable idiot.  
Dick however was an adult, well near enough one anyway. He was away from home a lot according to Jason so he must be adult enough to help?  
Pressing the dial button Rena connected the call as she watched Jason get into the cab without so much as quibble. This wasn’t right. Her Jace never got scared.  
‘Hey Jay, aren’t you meant to be in school?’ Came a very smooth voice that Rena could only assume must be Dick.  
‘Erm, no sir, my name’s Rena. Jason’s girlfriend?’  
‘Jason has a girlfriend? Huh, like a real one?’  
Frowning at the surprise in Dick’s voice Rena just shook her head and rolled her eyes. Jason was a wonderful person but Jesus he was in his own world half the time.  
‘Yeah, a real one. Look, I need your help. Jason’s in trouble and you’re the nearest thing to an adult I’ve got.’


	12. Elopement and Wandering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a fille chapter?   
> Mainly because this bit doesn’t quite fit with the next chapter but I felt it still added enough to the story to remain ... so tah dah?

‘Please Jason, don’t.’   
It was like the catchphrase of Mickey’s life. Whenever Mickey ended up in trouble, it was always because he had been standing within a five metre radius of Jason Todd.  
Jason had been brought back barely three days ago and already Mickey was running for his life behind his cackling friend who never seemed to comprehend the seriousness of the situation. Probably because Mickey was never entirely sure which reality Jason was even in.  
It had all started in an alleyway a few blocks back.  
It was Jason’s first night back out on the streets and Mickey, being the good friend that he was, had volunteered to babysit. He really had just made a rod for his own damn back.  
Mickey never asked why Jason had chosen to stand outside the back of a warehouse and had just gone along with it. He really should have asked.  
A couple of johns had soon begun to circle them with fat wallets and wandering hands. All seemed to be going well, until Jason had stepped back with THAT grin.  
‘Please Jason, don’t.’ Mickey had muttered, watching in horror as his friend pointed at the sign behind them in gleeful mirth.  
The sign read ‘Reduced Service. No Rear Entry.’  
Jason apparently found the sign absolutely hilarious.  
The men did not.  
Neither did Mickey quite frankly, because no sane person enjoyed running for their lives over the rooftops of Gotham City.

‘Come on Mickey quick, hold my hand!’ Jason yelled, his eyes bright with life as he held his hand out to his friend, his other holding on to some sort of line attached to the opposite building.  
‘Oh hell no!’ Mickey shrieked, automatically taking a step back, staring at his friend in terror. ‘Who d’ya think you are? Fucking Batman?’  
The light in Jason’s eyes dimmed a little and his smile faltered just as the sound of their pursuers scrambling up the fire escape caught both boys’ attention. Eyes snapping to the source of the sound, Jason tested his line and grabbed hold of Mickey’s hand.  
‘I’m not him.’ Jason grumbled before hauling ass off the side of the building.  
Mickey was going to die.   
Mickey screamed and hugged himself to Jason like a koala bear as they swung through the air towards their impending doom.   
Mickey and Jason swung headlong into the opposite wall and slid down into the dumpster bellow.  
‘Ow.’ Jason groaned, peeling off a used condom from his face and tossing it to the side with a grimace. Mickey wanted to strangle the moron with it. With a screech he lunged towards his friend and levelled him with a right hook that sent him careering back into the trash.  
‘What the fuck was that? You coulda killed us you asshole!’ Mickey spat, watching aghast as Jason sat up with a casual shrug whilst massaging his jaw.  
‘I’m normally better at that. That was embarrassing. Sorry.’ Jason replied, turning away from Mickey he began to wind his line back up.  
‘Sorry? Sorry! Jace are you mental? First you wind up a couple of guys we coulda bled dry and then, whilst running for my life, you throw me off a freaking roof! Why? Just why!’  
‘It was only a joke.’ Jason mumbled, at least having the decency to look ashamed of himself.

‘Yeah? Well, jokes are what get you killed Jace! Mark my words!’ Mickey shot back, folding his arms across his chest just to put his point across. Jason opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was turned into a shriek of pain as a gloved hand reached over the top of the dumpster and hauled him out by the hair.  
‘My words exactly Mickey.’   
Jason gasped, tears smarting his eyes, he reached up to try and pry the man’s fingers out of his hair. Bristle scratched his cheek and Jason tried to not move away when smoke was blown into his face.   
‘What have I told you about messing eh? Dumb delinquent kid, why Rob ever brought you back is beyond me.’ The man spat, dropping Jason unceremoniously to the ground and looking disappointed to see that Mickey had clambered out on his own.  
‘Why not leave me then?’ Jason choked out, winded by the fall and rubbing his head after being gripped too hard. Mickey cringed and turned away, only flinching slightly when he heard a body crash against the dumpster. Why couldn’t Jason ever just keep his mouth shut and do as told?  
‘Did I ask for your opinion? Get in the car Jason, now. And you? Mickey? Get back out there.’  
‘But sir?’   
Spinning on his heel, Mickey turned to see Jason being held to the man’s side, nursing a bleeding nose, all brightness well and truly fizzled out. Jason refused to look up at him but the man was more than happy to catch Mickey’s eye and send him a crooked smile.  
‘I’m on my way to a party. Would you like to come along too?’  
Mickey swallowed thickly and looked at Jason, caught between loyalty to his friend and self preservation. It took moments for self preservation to win out and for Mickey to shake his head. He did hope that Jason would understand.  
‘Then run along Mickey.’ The man replied pointedly, amusement adding a malicious sheen to his eyes.  
Mickey didn’t need telling twice.

Giving himself a nod of satisfaction, the man looked down at the scraggly boy at his side. Jason had been different since he’d left Bruce Wayne and it was not a good different. He was becoming dangerous to keep, even on a tight leash. He knew other men, bad men, would advice that he just killed the boy but Robert wasn’t going to do that. His boss wasn’t a child killer.  
‘You need to settle down Ave.’ He crooned softly as he guided the boy to the waiting taxi and flashed the driver a smile. Jason glared fully back up at him as his seat belt was fastened, emotion only truly coming back when he saw the bottle of vodka by his side.  
‘Will Uncle be there? At the party?’   
Snorting, the man looked at him as if he were something on bottom of his shoe.  
‘No. He has court in the morning.’ He snapped before slamming the car door and getting into the front seat next to the driver.  
Swallowing thickly, Jason winced at the knot building in his stomach and he stared blankly out of the window as they began to drive to who knows where. They never told him where.  
‘When will Uncle see me? He hasn’t seen me.’ He mumbled, tears that confused him more than anything else brimming in his eyes because why he cared so much about being given the cold shoulder was beyond him.   
‘Why would he want to see you?’ The man scoffed, exchanging a look with the cab driver he peered at Jason from over his shoulder and motioned to the bottle of vodka. ‘He gave you a present though. Maybe if you’re a good boy for me, he’ll change is mind?’  
Jason side eyed the bottle, he didn’t want to drink that. Willis used to drink that and that was when he’d get angry, just looking at the clear liquid made him feel sick and shaky inside. Plus it always burnt his mouth which Jason would say he obviously didn’t like but apparently adults did.  
So instead he just tucked the bottle into his jacket to appear as if he’d accepted the gift with the intention of feeding it to some gutter later.   
As they past buildings and turned down streets Jason couldn’t help but look up at the rooftops, waiting to see a tell tale shadow.  
Despite the ambivalence he often felt, there was still a glimmer of hope that Batman would come for him. That hope was dashed like every other time when the cab stopped and his door was opened.  
Why would Batman come for him? It’s not like any other adult in his life had ever done such a thing before? 

One hour later Jason was missing.  
The adults had been angry. Uncle had been livid.  
Somehow even being in a different part of the city didn’t stop Mickey getting into trouble. Somehow it was his fault that Jason ran half way through the party he wasn’t even at.  
Somehow it was Mickey’s responsibility to try and track the moron down so he could get the same hiding he’d received.   
Mickey’s well worn trainers took him to the cathedral. Mickey didn’t overly know why, Jason was the brains in their duo not him. Mickey tended to just follow his gut. His gut told him to go to the cathedral, to where Jason had been with that Grayson kid. It had been Mickey’s fault that Jason had got away then too.  
Dawn was fast approaching, the rising sun creating a golden haze in the morning smog. The priest was pinning some notice or other on the board outside as Mickey trotted up the steps. His heart sank when he saw him because that meant Jason wasn’t going to be inside. No way would even a Holy man leave a kid like Jason unattended.  
‘Try the gargoyle, son.’  
Jumping at the voice, Mickey blinked and realised that the priest had walked up to him, maintaining a respectful distance which made Mickey feel oddly safe.   
‘You are a friend of Jason’s? Then try the gargoyle.’  
Nodding slowly in response, Mickey frowned and looked around for said gargoyle.  
‘The roof, son. Our Little Bird has learnt to fly and once a bird has learnt to fly, he shall always seek out the sky in search of his nest mates.’ The priest explained before lifting his head to watch the sun rising over the rooftops and his expression saddened. ‘Alas, I fear he may be too late to reach his bird tonight, might I suggest going instead Mickey? Jason will need a friend.’  
Mickey’s frown increased. Who was ‘he’ and what was with all this bird stuff? More importantly how did the priest know his name? Jason sure, he liked this God stuff but Mickey had never set foot inside any religious place at all. His nana had been Jewish but other than that? He had very little to do with any Big Man in the sky.

Thankfully, the kind (if scary) priest had shown Mickey the stairs that lead to the roof because otherwise he had no idea how he was going to climb up there. Jason probably had though, he’d always been good at climbing and his skill had only improved while he was away. Probably some hiking expedition with Bruce Wayne or some other crap rich folks did.  
Jason was sat in between the talons of a gargoyle, humming and hitting his head back against its stone chest over and over again. Mickey sighed and began making his way over without having to look down. He could already guess what had happened for Jason to get like this. As he got closer, he noticed that Jason hadn’t even cleaned himself up, jeans hung screwed on his hips and Mickey wasn’t going to even think about what was smudged along a cheek.  
‘Jace?’ Mickey called out, sliding down to sit next to his friend he held onto a talon for fear of falling. Jason just kept humming and banging his head as if he hadn’t heard but Mickey knew better. Jason could always hear, it just took him a while to realise it sometimes.  
‘Jace? Buddy? You’re okay now? It’s safe yeah? I’m here, Mickey’s here and, and the party’s over now. Jace? Buddy? It’s over now.’ Mickey called out softly, making sure not to touch his friend, instead holding his hands out where they could be seen. It took a couple more attempts before the humming slowed and Jason blinked over at him with a stuttered breath.

Smiling, Mickey settled further against the gargoyle and gave the other boy a thumbs up. Jason seemed confused at first before huffing another breath and returning the gesture.  
‘Was it the bees again dude?’ Mickey asked.  
Jason nodded, shaking hands reaching up to cradle his head as he looked up at his friend desperately, his mouth opened and shut with a grunt of frustration.  
‘It’s okay Jace. Take y’time. I don’t want to go back yet anyhow.’ Mickey said, picking at the threads on his sleeves he sat and waited. It was times like this that Mickey was thankful for his bobble hat because the wind was cold and harsh all the way up here. It was quite the spot. The cathedral roof boasted panoramic views of the entire city. Squinting, Mickey leant forwards in the direction Jason was facing, you could see the twinkling lights of Bristol from up here and the singular light far away from all the others had to be Wayne Manor. The adults said Mr Wayne hurt Jason and that’s why he’d been brought back. Mickey had seen the bruises on his friend’s body, but Jason had been adamant Mr Wayne was not to blame, that he’d had trouble learning how to ski. Looking from the far away Manor to Jason, Mickey chewed on his lip thoughtfully, Jason wouldn’t act like this if Mr Wayne was like the other adults.

‘Bees in my head, it felt like bees.’ Jason mumbled, fingers digging into thick curls. ‘The party got loud, too loud, and the smell and the hands and- and it felt like bees. Had to get away, I had to.’  
Nodding along, Mickey smacked his lips and looked back out at Gotham’s skyline.  
‘Well, yeah? I guess bees in your head must feel pretty bad? Can’t blame a guy for wanting out y’know? Fuck, no one wants to go to those parties, only adults do.’  
His words did little to comfort Jason and he growled, literally growled and Mickey could only blink back because, how was he meant to reply to that? Growl back?  
‘It don’t work. I try to be normal, be better, but I can’t get my brain to work right. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t come for me?’ Jason carried on as if growling was no big deal.  
‘Well, if you can’t help it or change it, maybe you just accept it man? The bee thing, all that stuffs just my Jay-man. As for Mr Wayne? Well, he’ll come back, just you wait and see.’ Mickey replied, watching how Jason cocked a disbelieving eyebrow and shook his head.  
‘Don’t be dumb Mickey.’  
‘I’m not!’ Mickey argued, motioning towards the single light on the cliff top. ‘It’s like what happens in those stories you like yeah? If Mr Wayne is your hero then he’ll come for you. The hero always goes away but comes back in the end to save the erm-‘  
‘Damsel in distress?’ Jason replied with a small smile. ‘If he’s my hero then where was he tonight Mickey? Huh?’  
‘Maybe it’s not the end.’ Mickey suggested with a half shrug, reaching out he wiped away some of the grime from Jason’s cheek with his sleeve. ‘Or maybe you’re the hero? Fighting through fifteen challenges? Plot twist!’  
‘It’s twelve labours and I’m not Hercules. I’m just a kid.’ Jason said with a heavy sigh. ‘I thought- for a moment I thought maybe, I could be a hero namean? But- but I’m not Mickey, I try but I don’t pass mustard.’  
It was one of those nights then. Nothing Mickey said was going to change Jason’s negative outlook and ‘oh woe is me’ dramatics. In his opinion, Jason was being a little unforgiving because how was Mr Wayne going to find him up here? It’s not as if billionaires went running around rooftops at night.  
‘Well, Mr Wayne’s gotta go to court. That’s what adults do. They go to court Jason. Come on, let me get you cleaned up yeah? You’ll feel better after you’ve cleaned up a bit.’ Mickey suggested, scrambling to his feet he held out his hand to his friend. Jason eyed it up warily before sighing and allowing himself to be pulled upright.  
‘Am I in trouble?’  
‘Is water wet Jason?’  
‘Fair enough


	13. Lost Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A filler chapter while I try and catch up.  
> Sorry for the delay ... who knew that being a newly qualified nurse would kick my butt so hard??

Being on the cusp of adulthood, having a girl in his car was the stuff dreams were made of. In fact conquests that Dick had mastered in the backseat of his car, real or more often than not, made up, was the main bragging topic when Wally was sat in his front seat munching candy.  
Dick however did not appreciate dropping off an underage girl in downtown Gotham. Sinking down in his seat, he’d offered a wave as Rena left and just prayed that there weren’t any cops around. Rena seemed like a good kid but as she was the girlfriend of his wind up merchant of a brother, he wouldn’t put it past her to start yelling ‘stranger danger’. Somehow, Dick didn’t think Bruce would be too impressed with having to pick him up from the precinct when Jason was missing, or ever, really. 

Bruce didn’t look impressed anyway when Dick arrived back home and raced down to the Bat Cave. He’d hoped Bruce would have done what he usually did and waved his magic Bat shaped wand, threw some dollar bills around and Jason’s ETA back where he belonged was minus five minutes. By the look on Bruce’s face though, there was no magic tonight.  
‘Maybe the magic left in a yellow cab?’ Dick mumbled, a small chuckle leaving his lips to realise how much his douche brain of a brother had rubbed off on him. He never used to think about magic before.  
‘I’m glad to see you find this amusing Richard.’ Bruce practically spat through clenched teeth, his fist clenching tightly.   
‘Erm, no I was just- never mind. Rena got home safe?’ Dick offered, hoping to smooth over whatever he’d apparently done to piss Bruce off. It didn’t work.  
Bruce just carried on staring at the frozen footage of Jason getting into a cab outside school, his expression emotionless and everything Dick knew as his adoptive father was gone, this was all Batman.  
‘Bruce?’ Dick pleaded softly, feeling as small as his voice, he always felt so insecure and useless when Bruce acted like this. All he wanted was for Bruce to come back again.   
But there was no magic. 

It had been a long few hours, first calling Bruce, then questioning Rena about what happened while Bruce shouted down the phone at Child Protection and Principal Andrews. Running every moment through his head Dick couldn’t think of where he had gone wrong.  
‘You let him get in?’ Came Batman’s accusing tone, and Dick swallowed thickly, his gaze lifting to look at the frozen image of Jason.  
‘Huh?’  
‘You let him get in the cab! I know you never truly approved of his presence here, but I never thought you hated Jason enough to watch him get in that cab!’ Bruce said, his voice low, each word carefully placed with a tone so heavy it made Dick wince, he preferred it when Bruce yelled. Looking at the fuzzy image of a yellow cab Dick frowned at it, a sense of betrayal beginning to scrape along the inside of his heart with its long claws.  
‘Hate Jason? I never said I hated Jason, ever! How dare you even suggest-‘  
‘You let him get in that cab!’   
Now Bruce was yelling, finger pointed accusingly at Dick.   
The switch flipped.  
Hurt, worried and now completely confused, Dick’s betrayal lurched and spiralled, morphing into a bitter anger that clenched his jaw and tensed his shoulders.  
‘It’s a stupid cab. How was I meant to stop him? Huh? How? Tell me how! Tell me how I could of magically stopped them taking my brother and I’ll apologise Bruce. Jesus, can you hear yourself? You want someone to blame for this? Look in the mirror! It was the bruises you gave him that resulted in him being taken, not me! Bruises he’d been forced to lie about, just like I had to. This is all on you!’

Dick never did know when to shut up.   
Thoughts came so quickly he rarely ever had time to fully consent to what he was about to say before the words left his lips. Other times he’d just laugh and say it was part of his charm but not now. Now was anything but charming.  
Before he knew which way was up, Bruce was out of the chair and he was pinned against the wall like one of the criminals they apprehended each night.   
Dick refused to back down. Struggling feebly against the iron tight grip on his shirt, Dick tilted his chin and looked Batman straight in the eye, hoping somehow to reach Bruce.  
‘Go on. Hit me. If that will make this better.’ Dick sated simply, it wasn’t goading. Criminals goaded Batman, Dick dared him. Reminded him of the code Batman was supposed to be guided by.   
Batman blinked, eyes searching his eldest son’s face before Bruce slowly placed Dick back on the ground and turned away, shoulders slumped in shame.  
‘I didn’t give Jason those bruises.’  
‘No. Not directly.’ Dick replied, Bruce may have calmed but his own anger still bubbled below the surface and he was beyond done. ‘I begged you not to make him Robin. I told you it would be his undoing. I told you! I told you to leave him alone! But no, no you just had to go and give him MY costume and MY name as if -‘  
Cutting off, Dick drew a shaky breath and ran his fingers through his hair in distress. He expected a hand to rest on his shoulder or to be yelled at again, but his response was just a heavy, suffocating silence. 

Lifting his eyes, Dick watched Bruce look from him to Jason and back again, so lost in thought Dick could swear he saw the cogs turning. Dick had watched Bruce piece together a mystery before, a cold case no one else could figure out, never, ever, had Dick seen Bruce pale and his hands tremble when he reached his conclusion.  
‘You- you don’t recognise this cab.’  
Shaking his head, Dick swallowed and studied the vehicle just in case he did, but it just seemed like any other yellow cab, there were hundreds of the things.  
‘You- you don’t know about the children?’  
‘What children?’ Dick spat, frustrated that still Bruce was questioning his honesty. After everything they’d been through, despite being his son, Bruce still was paranoid and suspicious!  
It was as if the man were clutching at straws.  
Giving a brisk nod, Bruce turned back to the picture on the Batcomputer and began typing.  
‘Very well. Go home Dick.’  
‘What?’ Dick spluttered in disbelief at the sudden dismissal, a part of him aching to hear Bruce call Titan Tower his home as if he’d just been evicted. ‘I can help Bruce? Jason-‘  
‘Jason is fine. I have everything in hand. Goodbye Dick.’  
Taking a step forward, Dick reached out a hand towards Jason’s costume and shook his head in bemused offence.  
‘But I can help? Please, Jason is my brother. You can’t just shut me out! I -‘  
‘Goodbye Dick.’  
The firm dismissal was just added fuel to fire of rage currently rampaging around Dick’s body and he roared.  
Throwing nearest articles into the wall he turned and stormed off.  
‘Master Richard? Where are you going?’

Glancing up at Alfred standing at the top of the stairs, Dick scowled and went to push his way past before thinking better of it and slamming a fist into the wall instead.  
‘Roy. I’m going out with Roy.’  
Alfred nodded slowly, his expression impassive but somehow it was clear that the man did not approve of that suggestion.  
‘Is that a wise choice Master Richard?’  
‘I don’t care!’ Dick bellowed, fury encompassing his very being as he stormed out into the night.  
Fuck Bruce and fuck his stupid plan to create some sort of bullshit happy family that wasn’t going to happen. Any hope of having a true family died with his parents and that was that. At least Dick still had his friends.

Dick didn’t care if drinking with Roy was an unwise choice but he was starting to think that maybe he did now. Early in the evening drowning Bruce’s betrayal in booze and pounding the worry about Jason of his head with a DJ’s mix seemed the perfect solution.  
However, it was now the early hours of the morning, his hurt and worry were still there but now Dick was also cold, drunk, stinking like a brothel and trying to carry a paralytic Roy through the Bowery without getting mugged. His wallet had gotten miss placed, somewhere, Dick couldn’t quite remember exactly where but he did know that Alfred would not be impressed.  
The current plan was to use the money Roy had left to book them both a cheap motel room before heading out back to the Titans later on that afternoon.  
This however was beginning to become an issue purely because not even the dodgiest cabs wouldn’t take Roy in the state he was in. The only suggestion made to Dick was an ambulance. Which wasn’t going to happen.  
‘Come on Roy! At least try to walk!’ Dick griped, jostling Roy in the hope of invigorating some sign of life but all he got in return was some slurred jumble and Roy grinning up at him.  
Tonight honestly could not get any worse. 

Apparently though, tonight was out to prove Dick wrong at every opportunity. Turning down another alley, Dick frowned at the yellow cab parked up at the side of the road. It was an odd place for a cab to be picking up or dropping off punters but there it was. The car reminded him once more of his argument with Bruce and Dick grumbled away in frustrated confusion. Nothing made sense to him any more.  
‘Excuse me, Sir? You got a dollar? My friend needs water, Sir?’ A young boy spoke from around the cab. Shaking his head, Dick scowled and carried on walking past, not even sparing the boy a second glance. ‘I’m busy kid. Sorry.’  
The boy didn’t try to argue or beg further, apparently accepting his rejection with a soft sigh and a bow of his head. That was when Dick recognised the bobble hat.  
Dick would recognise that bobble hat anywhere.  
Roy hit the sidewalk with a startled yelp, not noticing his newly acquired head injury and promptly falling back asleep in the slush.  
‘Erm, Sir? Sir you dropped you’re um, friend?’ Bobble hat called after Dick, who span on his heel and prowled towards the boy as if he were prey.

Gulping, the kid at least had some self preservation and tried to make a run for it before being grabbed by the back of his jacket and throw up against the nearest wall.  
‘Name!’ Dick bellowed.  
Bobble hat boy gulped and his cheeks reddened.   
A warmth spread across Dick’s thigh and he closed his eyes in exasperation, the kid was apparently so terrified he’d wet himself.   
‘I’m, I don’t hurt kids. Okay? Just tell me your name!’  
‘Mm-Mickey. P-Please Sir, I don’t mean nuttin’. My friend is ill is all? Pl-please don’t h-hurt me?’ Mickey stammered, tears rolling down his cheeks as he looked past Dick to the waiting cab in desperation. ‘Please Sir?’  
‘Don’t you recognise me? From the Cathedral? Christmas Eve?’ Dick continued his interrogation before following the boy’s gaze to the cab. Bruce had yelled at him because he let Jason get in a cab like that. How was he meant to stop Jason doing anything, never mind getting into a cab miles away? Jason did what he wanted, end of story.  
Jason. 

Frowning, Dick studied the cab for a moment before looking over at Mickey, who shrank back from his piercing glare.  
‘Who’s your friend Mickey?’  
Gasping for breath, Mickey seemed to almost climb up the wall in a bid for freedom, eyes wide and hazy with panic.  
‘N-no, no take me yeah? I’m -I’m real good, yes Sir. H-he, my friend? H-he’s ill Sir, sick everywhere. T-Take me, I don’t bite, not like him!’ Mickey sobbed, making some sort of movement with his hips that made Dick want to drown himself in bleach even more than he already did with urine dripping down his leg. He had no idea what this Mickey kid thought was going on but he had had enough, he was drunk, pissed off and worried about Jason.  
‘Stop it.’ Dick hissed, promptly letting go of Mickey and letting him drop to the floor in a tearful heap.  
‘Leave him alone, p-please.’ Mickey hiccuped through tears, watching in hopeless defeat as Dick made his way towards the cab.  
Giving the driver a friendly wave to try and appear harmless and that he hadn’t just made a random kid piss himself in fear, Dick peered through the back passenger window.  
Another boy was lying on the backseat, his face obscured by shadow but Dick’s heart clenched none the less.

Blind and deaf to everything else around him, Dick pulled open the door and for a moment he couldn’t breathe.  
It was Jason.  
Battered and bruised and apparently unconscious but it was Jason, alive!  
‘Jason!’ Dick yelled, patting the boy’s thigh in the hopes of rousing him. ‘Jason wake up!’  
Leaning over him to check his brother’s breathing, Dick got a rather nauseating waft of strange cologne, cigarettes and alcohol.   
‘What the hell have you been up to, Little Wing?’ Dick mumbled, more to himself than Jason as he ran his hands over him to try and check for injuries.  
‘Oy! I said get out of my cab you freak!’ The cab driver growled but Dick just shot him a look just a shade below full on Batman.  
‘If I were you, I’d hush up before I stick your face through the windscreen, got it?’   
Funnily enough there wasn’t another word spoken by the cab driver as Dick saw to his brother. Jason was in one hell of state.   
As well as being very obviously drunk, Jason was littered in what Dick could only describe as bruises and general grime. His clothing were old and ill fitting but apparently he had the latest pair of Nike trainers. Raising an eyebrow at that, Dick swiftly did up the fly on Jason’s trousers and shook his shoulders roughly.  
‘Jason wake up!’

‘Dick? Who dat?’  
A voice slurred behind him and Dick moved aside slightly to allow Roy to peer over his shoulder in amazement. ‘No way, you founds Jaybirb? Cwever Dwikiebird!’  
Rolling his eyes, Dick pulled himself out of the back seat and instead moved towards the front passenger door.  
‘Get in with the other drunk.’ He shot over his shoulder, shooting his friend a single look when he muttered about how Dick wasn’t exactly sober himself. At least he didn’t have a head injury or currently unconscious which was apparently how low the bar was tonight.  
‘Look Pal, I dunno who you are but I can’t take you no where, Capieche?’ The cab driver finally spoke up, a nervous sweat braking across his brow. ‘I gotta get these boys home safe.’  
‘Hmm sure you do. Although, the other one? With the hat? He totally bunked a good five minutes ago.’ Dick pointed out, smirking when the man swore and craned his head out of the window in a futile attempt to spot his missing charge. ‘I’d take us to the address I’m about to give you, free of charge, else the cops might find out all about your involvement with drunk minors.’

Dick had literally no idea what was going on but his assumption that cab drivers weren’t meant to have underage intoxicated boys in their cars was true. If the engine suddenly driving and Roy swearing as he hurried to close the car door clumsily was anything to go by.  
Handing the driver the address to a safehouse near by, Dick looked in the rear view mirror to see Roy magically sobering up and cradling Jason’s head in his lap.  
‘I don’t wike it Dick. Dis don’t feel right. Summit happened to ‘im. Summit bad, real bad. Dis is bad.’ Roy babbled, tears rolling down his cheeks as he tugged at Jason’s hair in a way that seemed like an attempt to run his fingers threw it.  
Shaking his head, Dick frowned and turned away to study the cab’s licence before noticing that the taxi meter had never been switched on the entire time. Apparently Jason had been getting a free ride too, but it also meant the taxi firm didn’t know the driver was on the clock.  
‘He’s fine Roy, he’s just had too much to drink.’ Dick said calmly, lifting his eyes he watched Jason’s chest rise and fall again pensively. ‘None of us are going to remember any of this.’


End file.
